Making Different Choices
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: During the events of that Christmas party from S2:01, Sherlock starts to mentally compare Molly and Irene and becomes aware of how different the two women are. A couple weeks later, after a very shrewd observation by Molly, he begins to re-evaluate what is most important in his life. (Part 1 of my "Realizations of Love Dreams" series). Sherlolly.
1. Making Comparisons

**Special author's** **note: **You may be confused about why this is listed as part one of my _Realizations_ _of Love Dreams_ series, when I have already published several of them. This is because I only had the idea to write this story recently, yet the dream occurs chronologically as the first one prompted as a result of Sherlock, from my Journey series, reading Molly's diary. These dreams are deliberately designed to work as stand-alone stories, in case you are not familiar with my wider, single Sherlolly premise universe. However, at times they do contain elements that have been revealed as my personal interpretation for Sherlock and Molly's history, most of which is found in my initial story _A_ _Journey_ _to_ _Love_, _Faith_ _and_ _Marriage_. The most important of these aspects which will always be consistent in these dream stories is that the Molly of my personal Sherlolly universe is a Christian, with the values that are taught in the Bible, making her a virgin (despite her statement to Sherlock about her and Tom in S3:02). My own head canon says that Sherlock, due to what he went through as a child, is also a virgin. If you like to see sexually liberated stories for them, rather than realistically written and emotionally charged ones that may or may not lead to them being intimate for the first time, my stories are definitely not going to be of interest.

In addition, my unique way of writing this particular series as dreams allows me to portray Sherlock and Molly in a softer light as their "real" counterparts are happily married. This also allows me to manipulate timelines and canon conversations because in the "real" post Sherrinford world, the series canon has already occurred and can be incorporated into the dream, so there is method to my madness.

So, you have been forewarned. If you wish to continue, proceed at your own risk. I am aware that my readership is already very limited because of the unusual premise of my stories and the fact that I will not compromise my writing to cater to the masses who merely read for entertainment and escape. It would be lovely to hear regularly from those of you who actually like the way I portray my characters. To the loyal few of you who have already shown your support for me in the past with your follows/favourites and reviews, thank you! I hope you will continue to do so, because it really does keep me going when I find myself questioning whether my efforts are actually of value here.

Update 4/4/19: New cover image by the talented Elizabeth Robello, thank you!

* * *

Sherlock glanced at the door as Molly entered, bundled up against the cold and holding two bags of gifts. Why had he allowed Mrs. Hudson to convince him to hold a little Christmas party? He didn't even like Christmas. He turned away to sit at his desk.

He glanced up again briefly when he heard John expostulate, "Holy Mary."

Bloody hell, Molly had on some slinky black number that showed off every curve. He swallowed and turned his attention away. He had never seen her dressed like that before, he'd never noticed her figure either, it was always covered by her lab coat or she wore shapeless, unfashionable clothes. Interestingly enough, he could almost picture what she'd look like underneath, because he was certain she had the same measurements as Irene Adler: 32-24-34.

He was a little irritated, because Molly was obviously dressed to impress someone. He remembered that conversation when he had invited her to come over, upon Mrs. Hudson's request. She had acted casual about the invitation, saying she didn't have any plans – yet. Apparently she had them now.

Even as Sherlock talked with John and listened to the buzz of conversation, his mind was churning. Sexy black dress with gold trim, matching bracelet. Elaborate gold earrings. Festive bow in her softly curled hair. More makeup than usual and bright red lipstick which matched her nail varnish and the little red package he had glimpsed at the top of the one gift bag. Sherlock couldn't say why, but he did not like it one bit that Molly was dropping in here, before heading out to see some new boyfriend or potential one she had apparently found.

He tried to not say anything, really he did, but in the end his pique about it all won out. He blurted out a handful of deductions, designed to embarrass her. _That will teach her to come here dressed to the nines, just to show off her delicately proportioned little body, before heading off to wow some new paramour,_ he thought savagely, even as Molly looked satisfyingly horrified at his behaviour.

He finished his rude and completely untruthful statement about her trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts, and flipped the card over on the present as he said the last word. Then the maliciously teasing smile died on his lips as he saw the words:

_Dearest Sherlock_

_Love Molly xxx_

Oh, God. The gift was for _him_, not some phantom boyfriend. Guilt washed over him and a lump formed in his throat as Molly gave him a totally justified tongue lashing, in her quiet way.

Sherlock was not one to request forgiveness from anyone, but he knew he had crossed the line badly on this occasion. Shame washed over him as he said, "I am sorry. Forgive me."

She looked at him with those darkened eyelashes around deep coffee coloured orbs and for the first time he realised that Molly Hooper was a lot more attractive than he had ever noticed before. Also, her mouth was definitely not small, the curve of her lips was actually full and made for kissing.

_Where did that thought come from?_ he asked himself, even as he gave her an embarrassed peck on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper."

He would have said something else, but he got a text alert from Irene and was distracted. _Damn, I need to change that bloody text alert noise sometime,_ he thought, even as he went to the mantelpiece as instructed by the text and found a small wrapped present. Ironic that she had chosen wrapping paper that matched the shade of her own lipstick from the day she had boldly presented herself to him naked.

Sherlock excused himself and went to his bedroom. As he suspected, the present was her cameraphone, so apparently "The Woman" felt her life was in danger, fearing death. He called Mycroft then sat in his room for awhile.

But, despite John's obvious worry that he was harbouring some secret crush on the dominatrix, Sherlock wasn't thinking about her and her situation. He was thinking about Molly.

He thought about his words to her, what an absolute arse he had been. And he thought about his deductions that she was giving the gift to someone special, that she was dressed up for _him_. He had thought she had moved on from her apparent infatuation ages ago. But perhaps her feelings ran deeper than that?

One way or another, Sherlock knew he needed to speak with Molly. He decided to pull her aside and ask for a quiet word, and left his bedroom.

Unfortunately, when he re-entered the sitting room, it was to discover that Molly wasn't anywhere to be seen.

He looked around the room devoid of her presence and spoke to John, who was sitting next to his girlfriend, the boring teacher, Jeanette. "Where did Molly go?"

John cocked an eyebrow at him. "Did you really expect her to hang around after the way you behaved with her tonight? She went home almost as soon as you left the room - said she had a headache, not that I believed her for an instant."

Sherlock saw the censure in the teacher's face and felt embarrassed. Oh well, she wouldn't be around much longer anyway. John's girlfriends never lasted long. He predicted this relationship was already almost at an end - she obviously didn't like the fact that John spent a lot of time working on cases with Sherlock.

"Well, I think I'll be heading off now too," ventured Lestrade. "Getting up early tomorrow after all."

"Best call your wife first to make sure she knows you're on your way. You wouldn't want to find a nasty surprise when you get home," remarked Sherlock, glancing at his phone, rather than at the detective inspector. God, the man was such an idiot being shackled to a compulsive cheater like that woman. He needed to find someone loyal and devoted, like Molly - but not Molly herself, of course. Molly was much too intelligent for the likes of him.

John broke into his thoughts with a, "Can't you ever keep your comments to yourself, Sherlock?" and Sherlock looked at him, then to Lestrade whose lips were pressed together. Sherlock merely shrugged. He wasn't going to apologise to Gavin for something that was quite possibly true. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.

Lestrade, obviously realising Sherlock had no intention of apologising, rolled his eyes and departed.

Sherlock's eyes swept over the room to encompass John, his girlfriend and Mrs. Hudson. No need for any more festivities, he decided. "I'll be in my room."

He returned to his bedroom to await the inevitable call from Mycroft, which came through just over an hour later. A body that had been identified as Irene's was in the morgue at St. Bart's.

Mycroft picked him up so they could view the body and make sure it was really her.

When they headed into the mortuary, Sherlock was a little surprised to see Molly there. Her hair was still down, but brushed out, and the red nail varnish remained. However, she had removed that bright red lipstick, as well as the distractingly clingy black dress she had been wearing, in order to put on a festive Christmas jumper. He rather thought he preferred the dress and the way it hugged her curves, unlike the clothing she usually wore. Then he wondered what had brought on that errant thought, even as he told her she hadn't needed to come in.

Fortunately, Molly seemed her usual self, not giving any indication that she had a headache or resented him for his earlier behaviour.

After leaving the morgue, having identified the woman as best he could (the face was unrecognisable but the measurements _seemed_ correct), Mycroft offered him a cigarette. Sherlock wasn't going to turn down the chance for a rare puff, even if Mycroft seemed to think his interest in Irene had been of a more personal than intellectual nature. His brother could think what he wanted.

Even as he returned to Baker Street by taxi, Sherlock thought again of Molly. He couldn't help making comparisons between the two women who shared the same measurements.

Irene flaunted her body, using it as a weapon in order toto entice and enthrall men (and women apparently). Molly dressed for comfort, not to impress anyone, with the notable exception being this evening.

Irene wore carefully applied makeup to enhance her beauty, once again, to seduce those with whom she came in contact. Molly's makeup was usually minimal. She didn't need makeup to be attractive, Sherlock thought, and again, found himself wondering why these types of thoughts were all of a sudden popping into his mind. Although he had to admit, that red lipstick had been rather inviting looking. Would kissing Molly's lips when they were reddened that way leave his own lips red?

_Stop it, Sherlock,_ he told himself sternly. But his mind palace continued to make comparisons. Irene had that "woman of the world" hardened look. She used sex as a tool to have power over others. He didn't know about Molly, but he suspected that sex for her would need to involve love. She would never use it to get her own way, although she was not completely above the idea of using her own feminine assets to evoke a reaction in the man she had dressed for this evening - the man she was attracted to - Sherlock himself, apparently.

He sighed. No, the two women were nothing alike, and to be completely honest, if there were a choice to be made, it would be Molly every time.

_But I am not interested in Molly as more than a friend, am I? _he wondered, and couldn't seem to come up with a definitive answer.

Over the next few days Sherlock found himself composing a piece of violin music to distract himself from thoughts of Molly.

He drew the bow over the strings in a haunting melody that bespoke of a longing within himself, a longing for something he couldn't understand himself.

He was almost certain that John believed he was composing it to distract himself from thoughts of "The Woman". John was really good at missing the forest for the trees. Why would he be missing someone he barely knew, when there was someone he knew so much better, whom he had hurt, and who he now knew still harboured romantic feelings for him?

To be fair to John though, he supposed he could not fault his friend for the erroneous assumption as he was still actively trying to figure out the code to unlock Irene's cameraphone.

When Sherlock discovered on New Year's Eve that Irene had faked her death, he silently applauded her for her ingenuity, took care of a problem with an American who was also after the cameraphone and had temporarily held Mrs. Hudson hostage, then sent The Woman a single text, wishing her a happy new year.

Sherlock next saw Molly a couple days later, when he decided to use the lab to x-ray that cameraphone. He noticed immediately that her hair was styled slightly differently than usual, and it was in a rather attractive side braid. Her quite obvious attempt to discover whether he had a girlfriend was slightly amusing, especially considering she had to know he had no interest in romantic entanglement. Then he looked at her more closely, feeling a strange fluttering sensation in the vicinity of where his heart would be, if he had one.

His analysis of the phone complete - yes there were indeed tiny bombs set to detonate in the case of tampering, Sherlock drew a deep breath, swivelled in his seat and addressed Molly, who was still watching him.

"Why did you ask if the cameraphone belonged to my girlfriend?" He raised an inquiring brow at her.

Molly shifted uncomfortably and looked down. "You didn't give me a direct answer anyway. I was just curious."

His lips quirked. "I should have thought you know me better by now than to think that. I'm married to my work, after all."

She looked up then and stepped a little closer. Suddenly Sherlock caught a whiff of fragrance coming from her, a rather sweet combination of her usual strawberry scented shampoo and the flowery sent she obviously used on her skin. The effect was rather – _intoxicating_. His mind drifted back to the exotic, spicy scent he had detected on Irene when they had met. That perfume had been designed to tantalise the senses, overpower them. _Molly just smells fresh, pleasingly so, _he thought, through a suddenly dry mouth.

She twirled the end of her braid and gave him a rather shy smile, showing her lovely teeth through the pretty shade of lipstick she was wearing, and Sherlock's hands clenched beneath the lab table. Why was she affecting him this way now, after so long?

Molly's voice when she spoke was very soft. "Why do you suppose you fill your life with work rather than allow yourself to feel emotions the way most people do? I know you have a heart somewhere, or you wouldn't have apologised to me after those things you said."

Sherlock pressed his lips together. "Merely a conscience, not a heart."

Molly came even closer to him, and his non-existent heart began to suddenly thump in a far more rapid manner than he was accustomed to, unless he happened to be chasing down a criminal. "Do you want to know what I think about those deductions you made of me?"

His lips twisted. "Not really, but I suspect you are going to tell me anyway." He wished he were standing, rather than sitting. He didn't like it when he and Molly were eye to eye. She had this uncanny knack of being able to see him for the man he was, rather than the detective, and it was rather uncomfortable. He much preferred when he had that height advantage and could act superior.

"I think you were jealous, Sherlock. I think you don't want me with anyone else, because you want me for yourself." And with those words, she turned and exited the lab, leaving him still sitting there, his senses suddenly reeling.

He stared in the direction she had gone for a full five minutes before he slowly pocketed the cameraphone and left the lab himself.

* * *

**Author's note: **Well, there you have it. If you are a follower of my Diary story, you will know that this one is a dream Sherlock has after reading about that fateful Christmas party in Molly's diary. As a result, he ponders how things could have been for them earlier. So, unlike a regular AU, this dream is dictated by a very much in-love-with-his-new-wife Sherlock, so please bear with me if you think his sudden emotional connection to her is OOC. Perhaps it would have been in a regular AU, but not for the post TFP Sherlock who is in touch with his emotional side.

That being said, what do you think so far? When do you head canon that Sherlock started to have feelings for Molly? My head canon is that it was at this point, even if unacknowledged. I'd like to know what you, as the reader, think as well.


	2. Making Amends

For the next few days, Sherlock walked around as if he were in a daze. Molly's words had affected him more than he had thought possible.

After a week, John had obviously had enough of his pacing around the sitting room, picking up his violin and playing it for five minutes, seeking distraction, then pacing some more. He couldn't concentrate on doing any cases, had in fact turned down a solid seven that Gavin Lestrade had offered him.

"What the hell has got into you lately, Sherlock?" John demanded from his armchair, raising his eyes from the book he had been reading. "Are you still trying to figure out the code on that cameraphone from Irene Adler?"

Sherlock stopped his latest round of pacing and threw himself into his chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. "Not at all. She'll come for it herself eventually, I suspect." He paused, and decided to tell John the truth. Maybe his friend could offer some insight in this Molly matter. "Last time Molly and I spoke, she told me she thought I made those deductions about her on Christmas Day because I was jealous of the idea that she might have a boyfriend."

John set his book down on his lap and regarded Sherlock seriously. "You know, you did act pretty insensitive, and you aren't usually that way with Molly. Do you think she might be right?"

Sherlock's lips tightened. "That's just it. I don't know, and I don't like not knowing. You know how I've always felt about romantic entanglement."

To Sherlock's surprise, John stood then, uncaring of his book dropping to the floor and walked to Sherlock's chair, glowering down at him. "You bloody moron. She's out there, and she likes you. Do you have the first idea how lucky you are?" He paused and gave Sherlock a grim smile before continuing. "I can't even keep a girlfriend, and then there's Molly, who could have gone off with any Tom, Dick or Harry, yet for some reason she still prefers you!"

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and expelled a long breath. "I know, but, well, I don't know if I am capable of the kind of emotion required to invest in a relationship like that," he confessed.

John furrowed his brow. "Text her. Ask her out for coffee or _something_."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "Why?" Despite his actions, he really wanted to be convinced. Dammit, he hated having that height disadvantage again.

John rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "Because taking a chance, jumping into the unknown is better than living your life alone. If you blow this, Sherlock, one day you're going to find that she _has_ moved on and it will be too late for you."

The thought of Molly moving on with someone else was what finally convinced Sherlock that John was right. He didn't like the thought of her being with anyone else. He realised now that he _had_ been jealous at the thought of that phantom boyfriend, and that there had also been a relief in knowing she was dressed up for _him_ and not someone else, even though he had tried to deny it to himself. He swallowed, making a decision at last. "I'll text her."

John grinned and returned to his chair, picking up his book once more. "About bloody time you listen to me, mate."

Sherlock reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone. He thought a moment, then sent a text to Molly.

_Coffee?_

He set his phone on his lap and tapped the arm of his chair nervously, awaiting a response. This was a big step for him, after all.

His text alert sounded a few minutes later and Sherlock looked at the text, suppressing a smile at what he read.

_Sherlock, I am not going to get your coffee for you anymore. You're a grown man. Get it yourself._

He guessed he could understand her response. His text had been rather open to interpretation, so he hastened to set it right.

_I am sorry, I should have been more clear. Would you like to have coffee - with me? _

He chewed on his lower lip, hoping Molly wouldn't take too long to respond.

Fortunately, she didn't, and her response brought a smile to his face that John noticed and quirked an eyebrow at.

_In that case, where and when? You're buying._

"I'm meeting her for coffee," Sherlock told his friend, who nodded approvingly.

"Well done, mate. Baby steps."

A couple more texts went between them and it was arranged for Molly to come to Speedy's after work the following day.

The next afternoon, Sherlock headed downstairs to Speedy's, to await Molly's arrival. He had dressed for the day in his purple shirt, having seen in the past that Molly seemed particularly fond of that one, and he did want to make a good impression. He felt unaccountably nervous, but supposed that was natural. After all, what did he know about dating?

He seated himself at a table facing the door and waited.

When she did enter, his heart began to beat a rapid tattoo in his chest. She had parted her hair in the way he had said he liked quite some time ago in the hospital canteen, and it was swept to the side. There were waves in her hair, and Sherlock was aware that she must have pulled it out from a braid after she finished work. She was wearing that same rather attractive shade of lipstick from the day he had examined Irene Adler's cameraphone, and her clothes were a little more appealing and figure-hugging than what she usually wore. She had made an effort for _him_, and he felt unaccountably glad of the fact.

He stood and walked to the counter, gesturing for Molly to join him so they could order their coffee. "Hello, Sherlock," she greeted him rather shyly with a tentative smile.

"Molly," he responded with a nod.

Coffees ordered and received, they went to the table at which Sherlock had been sitting. "You wanted to see me?" She brushed a stray wisp of hair away from her face and he knew she too was feeling nervous.

Sherlock curled his slightly trembling hand around his coffee cup for fortitude. This was completely unknown territory for him. "Yes. I'd like to, uh, explore the possibility that what you said to me the other day was a correct assumption." Then he added honestly, "Actually, I have already ascertained it to be a correct assumption, but I am unsure on how to proceed with this newfound knowledge."

Molly licked her lips. "You mean when I told you I thought you were jealous?" She raised her coffee cup to her lips and took a delicate sip.

"Yes. Apparently you can see me in a way I cannot see myself." Sherlock's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Going by the premise that I was indeed jealous at the thought of you with another man, and that apparently my deductions revealed that you have feelings for me, rather than someone else, I am prepared to venture into the unknown and see where it leads." He stopped and took a deep breath, then expelled it before continuing. "Being unaccustomed to social interaction with a woman, I need your help. How do we proceed from here?" He raised his own coffee cup to his lips and waited for her response.

Molly's lips curved upwards at him then. "If you are thinking I have a ton of experience in that department, you are mistaken. I haven't really had a lot either. I was too busy with schooling to have ever been in a serious relationship with a man." She blushed a little and took another sip of her coffee before looking at him and saying, "If you want to do this, I think we just need to get to know each other better outside of work, like learn each other's likes and dislikes, learn things about each other from before we met, that kind of thing."

Sherlock leaned back slightly in his chair. "Very well. You may proceed." At Molly's raised eyebrow, he realised that had sounded a little clinical and amended it hastily to, "I mean, you start, please."."

And she did. For the first time, Sherlock realised how alone in the world Molly was. Her father had died of pancreatic cancer when she was eighteen. She was estranged from her mother, and she had no siblings or even cousins. He found his previously hidden heart aching for the woman who had led a solitary life, dedicating herself to her studies rather than relationships. Here he was, with a brother and caring parents, and he had chosen to keep himself isolated for the most part from others. Sherlock told Molly a little about his family too, and the way Mycroft was so protective of him. He considered telling Molly about his past issues with drugs, but decided it was a little premature for such deep revelations.

Nonetheless, when their coffee was finished and Molly stood to leave, Sherlock felt as if they had taken a step forward and surprisingly, it felt rather good. He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek goodbye, wondering what the etiquette was in regard to how long he should wait before venturing a kiss on the lips.

After Molly had gone, Sherlock headed upstairs and was immediately subjected to an interrogation by John over how his "date" had gone.

"So what did you talk about, then?" asked his friend from his armchair, and Sherlock pursed his lips before seating himself comfortably in his own chair and crossing his legs.

Apparently he was to receive the third degree every time he spent time with Molly. Oh well, he had deduced John's previous girlfriends often enough, so he couldn't really complain. "Surprisingly well. We talked about our families. It was most enlightening to discover more about her. Did you know she has no close family except a mother, from whom she has been estranged for many years? Her father died of pancreatic cancer when she was just eighteen."

"I'm ashamed to admit I have never spoken enough to her to know about her family," responded John, who then added, "but I'm glad you got to learn more about her family life - was that her idea?"

Sherlock nodded. "It was. I wasn't really sure what people do when they spend time together alone."

"You spend time alone with me often enough and you have plenty to say," pointed out John, with a smirk.

"That's entirely different and you know it, John," huffed Sherlock. "We are flatmates, and used to each other's quirks. I'm not attracted to you, therefore there is no need for me to walk on eggshells in order to avoid hurting your feelings." He flushed, suddenly realising he had pretty much admitted he was attracted to Molly.

John, for once, picked up on it and narrowed his eyes at Sherlock. "Aha, so you _are _attracted to Molly, then."

Sherlock pressed his lips together. "I should have thought that was fairly obvious, given that I took your advice and asked her out for coffee."

"Alright then, so we've established that you have an attraction for her." John leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Did you kiss her before she left?" he questioned with interest, and Sherlock frowned. Surely that was none of John's business? He had never gone so far as to ask John about his personal interactions with his lady friends. Of course, he had been completely uninterested in the details of John's romantic liaisons.

Oh well, he had nothing to hide. A kiss on the cheek was hardly something that needed to be kept secret. "I kissed her on the cheek."

John smirked. "Just wait till you find out what a _real_ kiss is like."

Sherlock huffed. "What makes you think I don't already know what it feels like?" As soon as he spoke the words, he regretted them. He had been too defensive.

John cocked an interested eyebrow. "In the time I've known you, you have not showed any interest whatsoever in anything of a romantic nature, kissing or sex or otherwise. You told me yourself you were married to your work. Are you telling me things were different when you were younger?"

"Not that it's any of your business, John, but seeing as you will probably continue to harass me about this, I will admit to lacking the practical experience of kissing or otherwise." He glowered at John whose face held a highly amused and satisfied expression. "At least I do not have the worry of having possibly spawned any progeny in my youth."

"Touché, my friend," responded John, still with that irritating smirk on his face. "So now that we have that settled, when are you planning to offer your virgin lips to Molly?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Are you expecting me to inform you if and when that occurs?" He regarded John unsmilingly. "Because if you are, I shall endeavour to ask prying questions about your future relationships as well, like how often you indulge in sexual encounters with them and the like."

John threw up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. It's just strange, to think of you, my cold, unemotional friend, being potentially interested in a woman at last. To be honest, I thought if anyone were to capture your attention, it would be Irene Adler. You did see her naked, after all."

"I am well aware that you thought I was interested in her, but you were mistaken. Aside from her intellect, everything about her disgusts me. She uses and manipulates people to gain power."

"Maybe so, but her body is extremely pleasing to look at."

Sherlock's brow creased. "Molly has the same measurements, and I would much rather see her na-" He stopped suddenly, feeling the colour creep up his face as far as the tips of his ears. What was he thinking?

Thankfully, John gave Sherlock a knowing looked but restrained himself from saying anything.

The detective forced his thoughts away from Molly. Nevertheless, when his text alert sounded sometime later, his heart beat faster with anticipation as he read Molly's text.

_Thank you for the coffee. Next time it's my treat. Are you free for dinner at my place tomorrow evening at around six-thirty? I'm making my famous fettuccine Alfredo._

Sherlock had a couple afternoon client consultations planned, but he already knew they were going to be simple, and he did enjoy a good pasta, so he texted back, _It would be my pleasure._

John's eyes lifted from his book again and he quirked an eyebrow at Sherlock. "More plans already?" he questioned.

Sherlock pocketed his phone. "As a matter of fact, yes. Molly has invited me over to her flat for dinner tomorrow evening."

John chuckled. "Sounds serious already if she is inviting you to dinner in her home. You had better watch out. She might be planning a seduction."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his friend and glared. "Molly is not that type of woman," he stated emphatically. Hadn't she said as much herself, with her talk of being too involved in studies to have time for a serious relationship?

John's lips twisted. "Perhaps not, but I just want you to be prepared in case anything happens. You are like a babe in the woods when it comes to relationships. You _are_ an innocent virgin after all," he teased. His forehead creased as he added, "Perhaps I should give you a couple condoms - just in case."

Sherlock could feel himself flush. "For God's sake, John, I haven't even kissed her; you ridicule me for the fact that I have never been with a woman, and yet, despite that knowledge, you think I'm going to jump into bed with her?"

John merely shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. Don't you watch television, Sherlock? People who barely know each other fall into bed all the time. You have no idea what will happen once you understand how strong a man's sex drive can be."

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. "Stop it right now. If things were to progress that far between us at some point, it wouldn't be anytime soon. My God, I'm still trying to process the fact that I'm _attracted_ to her in the first place."

"Whatever." John returned his focus to his book, and Sherlock knew the conversation was over.

That evening, however, Sherlock found two square foil packets sitting prominently on his pillow before he went to bed, and he tossed them into his bedside drawer, determined to not even think about sex.

And when he went to sleep that night, his dreams were filled with images of a certain pathologist named Molly Hooper.

* * *

**Author's note:** So, Sherlock has made the decision to see where things will lead with Molly. Molly's backstory is consistent with the backstory I created for her in my original Journey story. As this is a dream, of course, Sherlock is going to dream her true history, the one he already knows. I thought very carefully about creating a backstory for Molly's family that would explain my perception of her as alone and working on holidays. Her father's method of death by cancer I felt could be what led to her interest in pathology. What's your head canon for Molly's family history?

Did you catch the little lines of canon from later episodes? As I pointed out at the beginning of the first chapter, the beauty of writing this as a dream is that Sherlock can jumble up any of his conversations and insert them anywhere into the dream. Cool huh? Maybe I'll start a trend.

I hope you enjoyed John's conversations with Sherlock. It's fun to think of him being the "sensible one" and trying to be the one helping Sherlock for once, looking out for his best interests.

The three F's -Follows/favourites and feedback are greatly appreciated.


	3. Making Connections

The following day, Sherlock checked his watch as he stood at Molly's front door and knocked. _Six-thirty exactly_, he thought with satisfaction even as he sniffed the air appreciatively. He could smell bacon, onions, peppers, and his stomach rumbled with anticipation.

Molly opened the door, wearing an apron and with her hair pulled back in a messy bun from which several strands of hair had escaped. She gave him a rather shy smile which tugged at his heart strings. "Hi, Sherlock. Come in, dinner's almost ready. I'm just finishing up the garlic toast. You can lay your coat over the armchair and then you can go ahead and take a seat."

She nodded at her small dining table which had been set for two. She had even placed a candle in the centre and lit it. A tablecloth and dimmer lighting and it would have looked like a table in Angelo's, he mused.

There was a bottle of wine on the table as well, with two wine glasses. Molly had gone to a lot of trouble. "You can pour the wine already," she instructed, before returning to her stove and opening the oven to pull out four pieces of home-made garlic toast on a baking tray.

Sherlock took off his coat and did as she had suggested, then poured the wine as Molly busied herself adding the cooked fettuccine noodles to her white Parmesan sauce, which he could see contained bacon, green peppers and onions as he had already ascertained, as well as mushrooms, and his stomach growled again in anticipation.

Molly's cat, Toby, entered and rubbed his head against Sherlock's leg in a familiar manner. He had seen the cat several times on past expeditions to Molly's flat to pick up various body parts when she was too busy to deliver them herself to Baker Street, and for some unaccountable reason, the animal seemed quite fond of him, although Sherlock rarely deigned to pet him.

Toby meowed plaintively and Molly scolded him. "Toby, I just fed you half an hour ago, now go and lay in your favourite spot in the armchair over there." She pointed at said chair and the animal slunk off to do her bidding. It was uncanny how he seemed to understand what Molly was saying.

Within a few minutes Molly too was sitting across from Sherlock at the table. Sherlock watched her as they ate. She was so elegant in the way she twirled her fork around her spoon, putting just enough pasta on the fork that it did not require her to open her mouth wide for a huge mouthful. And oh, God, the woman could _cook_. He had never really thought about that before. She picked up her garlic toast with her slim fingers that could wield cutting tools for corpses so capably and took delicate bites of it.

Occasional sips of wine left a pink residue on the edge of her wine glass, and Sherlock was aware that Molly was once again wearing the same lipstick from that night in the morgue. He wondered idly if she would ever wear the red lipstick for him again.

They didn't speak, merely ate quietly, steadily. When Sherlock was finished, he set down his fork and proclaimed, "That was phenomenal, Molly. You could teach Angelo a thing or two."

Molly coloured slightly and smiled at him. "I don't know who Angelo is, but thank you."

He raised an eyebrow in astonishment. "You've never eaten at Angelo's, best Italian restaurant in London?"

She shook her head. "I-" she paused, giving him an embarrassed look, "don't go out socially very often."

"In that case, I'll just have to take you there sometime," answered Sherlock with an easy smile. "To be honest though, if you made your recipe for him, you might get an offer of employment."

Molly grabbed a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun and tucked it behind her ear and her lips quirked. "Well, I do enjoy cooking, but even more so when I'm not just cooking for myself. Would you like some more?"

Sherlock sat up and rolled his shoulders slightly. "No thank you, but if everything you cook tastes this good, you might end up with a permanent houseguest."

Molly blushed at that compliment, then ventured shyly, "You could probably use some more regular home cooked meals."

Sherlock couldn't help grinning, even as Molly finished the food on her own plate. "John knows how to make a decent omelette, but I have to admit, our fridge is more likely to contain body parts than food."

Molly shuddered slightly, then stood to take their plates. "You really need to keep a separate fridge for those body parts," she commented, taking the plates to the sink and laying them inside it.

"Are you sure you don't want another piece of the garlic toast?" she queried, holding up the toast invitingly, while picking up the second remaining toast with her other hand and taking a bite.

Sherlock stood and walked towards her. "I guess I could be persuaded." He took the toast from her hand and bit into it. It wasn't as fancy as garlic bread, but was still good, and quite garlicky. He had the sudden thought that if he were to kiss Molly, at least they had both eaten the garlic. Having had that errant thought, he was unable to push it from his mind.

Molly stood with her back to the sink, and he leaned with his back to the breakfast counter as they polished off the remaining pieces of garlic toast. Once they were finished, Sherlock noticed that Molly had a small crumb at the side of her mouth.

She looked rather surprised when he reached a hand out to brush his thumb against the corner of her mouth. "You had a crumb," he explained, noticing the sudden rapid rise and fall of her chest as he did so. At that moment, when his own chest was beginning to rise and fall more rapidly than usual, he realised that he very much wanted to kiss Molly Hooper.

Instead of removing his hand from her face, he stepped closer, looking into her dilated pupils and slightly parted lips as he lowered his head and placed his lips against hers. His eyes closed as he experienced the sweet temptation of a woman's lips for the first time, and he understood what John had been saying to him.

He felt Molly's hands come up to curl around the nape of his neck, even as her mouth opened further, inviting him to explore it. It was strange that something he had never before thought about, could come so naturally with her. Sensation washed over him in a blinding rush, and his body began to respond in a most unexpected way to the feel of her. The one hand not resting against Molly's cheek came down to rest against the small of her back.

How had he managed to live for so many years without experiencing this exquisite sensation? It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. He felt so vibrant, so _alive_.

Sherlock continued kissing her, registering the the softness and warmth of her lips. It was utterly intoxicating. Her soft sigh of pleasure yanked him back to reality, and he drew back, breathing hard. His body was on fire. Much as he hated to admit it, John had been right. Molly had awakened feelings of sexual desire within him. She too seemed similarly affected, even as she removed her hands from his neck and took a pace backwards.

"What was that?" she asked rather breathlessly, and he could see the heightened colour bloom in her cheeks.

His own voice was slightly unsteady as he responded, "I think it was an unbelievably amazing kiss." He shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, Then his lips quirked. "At least it was that way for me."

Molly swallowed visibly. "I'm no expert on kissing by any means, but that was the most incredible, intense kiss I've ever had. Where did you learn how to do that?"

Sherlock gave her a surprised look. "You think it was that good? I have no idea how I learned something I've never done before. Perhaps it was instinct. It just felt-" he searched for the appropriate word but couldn't find anything better to say than, "_right_, somehow."

A smile played about Molly's lips, and Sherlock felt like he would really like to kiss her again, but he had the feeling that these new sensations could easily lead him down a path he was not ready to travel, and he was certain Molly wouldn't be ready for it either. If they were to work towards that, he needed to know her better and be completely sure it was what they both wanted. But then again, she did have more experience than he did - he remembered that she had gone out with Moriarty.

Unable to stop himself, he blurted out, "So, did my kiss compare favourably with those of your last boyfriend, Moriarty, or should I say, Jim from IT?"

The smile died on Molly's lips and she suddenly glared at him. "Jim actually wasn't even my boyfriend. We went out three times." Her lips tightened. "'I ended it, that night, after you had showed me he had left his number for you. He was obviously using me to get to you."

Sherlock hung his head. "I'm sorry for the tactless way I talked to you. If it makes you feel any better, John told me off about that as soon as you left the lab that day, and I did feel ashamed about it, even if I never apologised." He paused, then continued, "So, um, you never-"

Molly interrupted him. "Sherlock, I never kissed him. I barely knew him. Kissing is something that is supposed to be special, something you share with a person you care about a lot..." She stopped suddenly and turned away from him then, and Sherlock knew she was embarrassed by her own words. He couldn't help feeling glad that things had not gone further with the man he considered his nemesis. He was also rather pleased that Molly apparently cared enough about him to accept his kisses. Nonetheless, he felt sorry for having made her uncomfortable so he decided to change their topic of conversation.

"So, uh," he ventured, forcing a casual tone into his voice, "can I help you with the dishes now?"

She looked at him again and he was relieved to see his ploy had worked, and she no longer seemed embarrassed. Instead, she asked in a teasing voice, "Do you even know how to do the dishes? I've seen a lot of dirty cups and plates littering Baker Street on the odd occasion I've dropped by."

Sherlock huffed. "I do occasionally help John with them, when we are running out of clean dishes."

Molly laughed at that, and proceeded to put away the leftovers, while Sherlock filled the sink with soapy water and began to wash the dishes.

Once everything was clean, they retreated to the sofa upon Molly's invitation.

Toby decided he wanted some attention and jumped onto Sherlock's lap. Sherlock stroked the animal absent-mindedly and the cat purred noisily. He felt rather awkward, sitting next to Molly this way, and was rather glad to have something to do with his hands, because it prevented him from obeying the urge to take Molly in his arms again and explore the whole kissing thing some more.

In an attempt to begin a neutral topic of conversation, he remarked, "I had a dog named Redbeard when I was a child. I must confess, I do prefer dogs to cats."

Molly gave him an interested look. "Really? What kind of dog?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow thoughtfully. He had vague memories of the dog, but most of his childhood was actually rather foggy. It was probably a mind palace thing and he had deleted most of his early memories to make room for more important ones. "He was an Irish Setter, a very friendly dog."

"Oh, how lovely," enthused Molly. "I like dogs too, but it isn't really practical to own one around here, and they require a lot more maintenance than cats."

"True enough," agreed Sherlock, as Toby rolled over and invited him to scratch his belly, which he did. "My family lived in North Yorkshire when I was very young, so there was plenty of room for a dog to run around."

Molly joined in with the rubbing of the purring Toby's belly. "How long did you have Redbeard? Is he the only dog you've had?"

Sherlock pursed his lips and tried to think. Was it normal to have such limited knowledge of his childhood? He hadn't really thought about it before. Nobody had ever been close enough to him to be interested in his childhood. John had never asked him about his early life either. Their relationship was definitely not one where they shared their pasts in that way. "I must confess to having rather limited recollections of my early childhood, but I do remember that he disappeared one day and never came back. I do not believe I ever had another dog after that. I suppose I was too broken-hearted over his loss."

Toby seemed to have had enough attention and rolled over and off Sherlock's lap as Molly asked, "Do you think losing him may have had an impact on why you've found it so difficult to deal with emotions? Are you afraid that loving someone would just lead to a broken heart?"

He gave her a surprised look. That was something he had never thought about before and it had been a remarkably perceptive idea by Molly. "I suppose it may have contributed somewhat. Perhaps the fear of loss made me shut myself off from emotions, or perhaps it is as you say, a fear of having my heart broken by someone."

To his surprise, Molly reached out and took his hand, then squeezed it. "Well, I'm glad you are making an attempt to overcome that with me. I'd like to help you explore your emotions more fully." She looked at him earnestly. "I think everyone fears being hurt. But without risk, there can be no reward. Sometimes you just have to take a chance."

Sherlock's lips quirked at that. "John pretty much said the same thing to me, before I sent you that text about having coffee."

"Speaking of coffee, did you want some, or tea, perhaps? Then we can spend a little time getting to know each other more before you go home." Molly was looking at him in a way that made him feel as if he would much rather be kissing her, but he was prepared to take things as slow as possible. Besides, he decided he needed to research kissing, to find out whether it was normal for a man to feel such an excess of sexual desire just from the act of kissing.

"A cup of tea sounds good," he said, and she stood to make it.

For two hours, they talked, discussing likes and dislikes, swapping stories about different things, investigations in Sherlock's case, and unusual post-mortems in Molly's. She cracked a few morbid jokes and he found himself laughing at them. He had never realised before how easy it was to talk with her.

Finally, Sherlock decided it was time to leave. "Thank you for this evening, Molly. I have found it most enjoyable." He picked up his coat from the armchair and slipped it on, then turned back to Molly, who was hovering uncertainly, biting her lip. Instinctively he knew she was hoping he would kiss her goodnight, but was too shy to make the first move. It was rather intriguing, this mixture of assertiveness and shyness she displayed. He couldn't say which he liked better, but he could say he liked both sides of her. In fact, he was liking very much everything he was getting to know about Molly.

"Do you feel like you would like to continue with this, just getting to know each other better?" she asked hesitantly, and he smiled at her reassuringly.

"Most definitely." He bent his head then and kissed her. He forced himself not to prolong it, fearing his own body's reaction, but he felt warmth flowing through him and knew that this was something he was looking forward to exploring as time went by. "Good night, Molly,"he told her, once their lips had parted.

"Good night, Sherlock," she responded, and her soft voice held the same warmth that he felt within himself.

He gave her one last smile and left her flat, allowing that warmth to remain with him the entire taxi ride back to Baker Street.

As soon as Sherlock entered the flat, he strode towards his laptop, ignoring John, who asked, "What's your hurry? How was your dinner?" and headed to his bedroom for privacy.

He needed to research kissing. Kissing Molly had produced a similar kind of high as when he had been going through his drug experimentation phase. The high was a little different, this one was definitely one that stirred within him feelings of desire for her as well as the usual euphoria connected with a drug high.

He seated himself cross-legged on his bed and began to research. What he found was quite interesting - the act of kissing released certain chemicals in the brain - dopamine and oxytocin. _No wonder it felt so good kissing Molly, _he thought. This new knowledge presented a danger though. Too much kissing would undoubtedly lead to him (and possibly Molly, although he could not speak for her) wanting to progress things further.

Sherlock snapped his laptop closed and stared into space. Was he ready to commit to this exploration and all it potentially entailed, now that he knew eventually it would inevitably lead to thoughts of sex and the intimacy he had balked at for so long?

In the end, he decided the most logical thing to do would be to speak about it with Molly. Should they get to know one another and refrain from muddying the water with kissing which might lead to those other things, or should they just allow things to progress naturally?

And this time, when Sherlock went to bed, his dreams were filled with visions of him kissing Molly, and those dreams were rather pleasant indeed.

* * *

**Author's note:** I'm not sure how many people have written stories where Sherlock talks about his childhood, but I thought this would be a good opportunity for him to share it, and to realise there are gaps in his memory. Another benefit of writing an earlier timeline story with the knowledge of the later seasons means I can include this information. Did you enjoy his discussion with Molly?

Here again I used a later canon conversation from S2:03 with Molly's talk about Jim and only going out with him three times. I am very curious to know whether any of my readers have found other stories that weave canon conversation into different times than the usual canon sequence.

By the way, I researched kissing myself and those chemicals are indeed released, so kissing can definitely be intoxicating. Interesting, huh?

Feedback always appreciated (from guests too, so don't hold back!)


	4. Making Boundaries

Sherlock couldn't help feeling nervous as he waited for Molly to arrive. It had been several days since they had seen one another, although they had texted a couple times. John had informed him yesterday that he was planning to go out tonight, and Sherlock decided it would be the perfect opportunity, being Friday, to invite Molly over and have that serious talk about deciding on the parameters of their relationship. They would have the flat to themselves without interruption. Having a flatmate had never bothered Sherlock before, but now he rather wished he lived alone.

A short time earlier, he had gone out to the Chinese restaurant down the street and purchased dinner for Molly and himself. The containers were now sitting on the coffee table, along with utensils and plates. He even had cold bottles of water for them.

The doorbell sounded and Sherlock opened the door to his flat, with the intention of going downstairs and letting Molly in. Of course, that was unnecessary as Mrs. Hudson reached the door first. He heard the note of surprise in his landlady's voice as she said, "Oh, hello dear, what are you doing here on a Friday evening? Did you come to drop off something for one of Sherlock's experiments?"

Molly's voice was hesitant, and he could tell she was not really sure how to respond. "Oh, no. Just a social visit."

Sherlock could almost see Mrs. Hudson raising an eyebrow at that as she responded. "I guess you have moved on from his shameful treatment of you at Christmas, then?"

He could imagine Molly's blush as she answered with, "Oh, yes. Everything is fine. It's all good. I should really be going upstairs now, he's expecting me."

"Of course, dear. I hope he realises what a good friend you are to put up with his shenanigans." This time there was a slightly acerbic note in his landlady's voice.

"I...I think he's trying to understand that," Molly's voice responded, and Sherlock heard her soft footsteps making their way upstairs, even as he heard the door to Mrs. Hudson's flat close.

When Molly reached the landing, she seemed a little startled to see him already there with the door open. He drank in the sight of her. She had obviously showered before coming over. Her hair was loose and looked still slightly damp. He could also smell the fragrance of her shampoo and body wash, rather than the hospital smells that usually clung to her.

"Hi," she said, rather shyly.

He smiled, moving aside so she could enter. "Hi, yourself." He gestured at the coffee table. "Your dinner awaits."

Sherlock was a little embarrassed at not having the food set up on a proper table with chairs, but as usual, his kitchen table was littered with various instruments of experimentation, and the sitting room table had all his papers, laptop, printer and other paraphernalia. John was always complaining about not having anywhere to eat.

Molly, however, didn't complain, just helped herself to the Chinese food and set her plate on her lap.

After they had both finished eating, she insisted on taking the plates to the kitchen and doing the dishes, including the miscellaneous cups and other plates that had accumulated over the past several days and were sitting in the sink and on other various surfaces, unwashed. When he tried to protest, she brushed him off, saying, "If you want to keep learning about me, Sherlock, you'll discover that I like things to be kept tidy. If that means I have to be the one to straighten things up, so be it."

She spoke in a firm tone, and Sherlock had to admit to himself that he quite liked assertive Molly. As a matter of fact, he could see quite clearly how she had changed around him since the early days when she had been so shy. He suspected the change in her had begun when she had had her brief flirtation with Moriarty and had told him off for his unasked for, even if accurate, deductions on the man. Of course, he had missed the biggest thing, that the man was a dangerous psychopath, but that was another story.

Once the dishes were done, they returned to the sitting room. Molly sat on the sofa and Sherlock contemplated whether he should sit in his chair or beside her, then decided sitting together would make for easier conversation.

Sherlock sat beside Molly and turned his head to look at her. It would be better to discuss the things he had been thinking about sooner rather than later, he decided. "I need to get some things straight in my head, Molly," he began, and her brow furrowed.

"What kind of things?" She sounded puzzled.

Sherlock pursed his lips in concentration. Where to begin? Well, he did need to know what Molly's expectations were, so that seemed to be the best place to start. "I was wondering how we should proceed with things in this relationship." He took a deep breath, then continued, wishing to be honest with her. "The other night, when we kissed, it awoke within me feelings I had not experienced before, ones I had not expected."

She looked at him wide-eyed, uncomprehendingly. "Are you saying you regret kissing me?"

Sherlock sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes briefly, then returned his gaze to Molly. "Of course I don't regret it, but I have to confess, those feelings that were awoken within me provided a kind of high I didn't know was possible without the use of artificial means."

Molly's eyes narrowed at that. "Do you mean without the use of drugs?" At his nod, she said slowly, "Are you telling me you have a drug addiction I was not aware of?"

"No, no," Sherlock hastened to reassure her, then, feeling he needed to be honest, he added, "Well, I _did _dabble in recreational drugs during my uni years, well, perhaps more than dabbled, my brother would say, as he had to ship me off to rehab," here he flushed slightly, but continued on, wishing to be honest with her, "but the only thing I have had to struggle through in the last several years is the desire to smoke, which I am currently managing to control with the aid of nicotine patches."

To his surprise, Molly reached over and took Sherlock's hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you for being honest with me. I'm proud of you for being strong enough to pull yourself away from the addiction of drugs. I've seen enough bodies on the slab as a result of drug overdoses to know how dangerous it can be, whether you consider yourself just a dabbler in drugs or a user, or an addict."

Sherlock felt a rush of gratitude for Molly run through him. She could so easily have acted judgmental over his admission, but instead she had reassured him. The earnest expression in her eyes compelled him to move a little closer to her. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest even as Molly leaned slightly into him, as if awaiting his kiss.

He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "Thank you for not judging me, Molly." He bent his head and closed the distance between them, obeying his body's demand to feel the touch of her lips once again. The instant their lips met, he knew that the sensations he had felt during their previous kisses were no fluke, their lips moulded together perfectly. He could feel heat rising within him, even as he decided to venture a step further and explore her mouth with his tongue. Molly made no protest, opening her mouth to his, and sliding her hands around his waist. Almost immediately though, Sherlock realised it had been a mistake to do something which felt more intimate, because it served to increase his body's response. He hadn't even spoken to Molly about setting boundaries, but had been distracted.

With an effort, he pulled away from her and let out a deep breath.

Molly looked at him anxiously. "Is there something wrong?"

Sherlock dropped his hand from her face and curled it into a fist. "Before we progress any further, I feel we need to set some guidelines. I'm not used to this form of expression and the feelings it is stirring within me."

Molly placed a gentle hand on his knee. "Of course, Sherlock. I think it's a wonderful idea that we talk about things. Just tell me, what do you need?"

_You, _he thought silently, then felt silly at his own foolishness. Aloud, he merely said, "Kissing you this way makes me feel that at some point the natural progression would lead towards sexual activity." He felt himself flush, completely unused to this kind of topic, but it needed to be said. He swallowed, then asked, "Is that something you see potentially happening between us?"

Molly's eyes widened slightly and he saw colour creeping up her own cheeks. "I have to be honest, Sherlock," she said, a little hesitantly. "We've only exchanged a couple of kisses, but I feel the same thing, the way my body is responding to yours, and it scares me a little."

Sherlock was a little surprised at her admission. Just exactly how inexperienced was she? He merely waited for her to continue, however.

She chewed on her lower lip nervously for a few seconds before venturing to speak again. She removed her hand from his knee and folded both of hers into her lap before continuing. "You see, Sherlock, I was raised to believe sex is something that should be kept for only the most committed of relationships. I know these days most people don't even think twice about going out with someone and then sleeping with them after only a few dates, but I don't believe in sex without love." She blushed and looked down at her hands, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "I feel an intense attraction for you, Sherlock. But attraction isn't love. As far as sex is concerned, even if my body says yes, I know it wouldn't be right unless we were in love with one another and committed to one another."

A surge of mingled relief and disappointment washed over Sherlock. It was good to know where he stood, even if he was now more confused than ever about things. He reached a hand to tilt her chin towards him. "If I am understanding correctly, you are saying you've never been with a man intimdtely and don't intend to be, unless you are certain you are in love." He spoke confidently, aware that his thoughts about Molly on Christmas Day had been correct. He had thought then that she was nothing like Irene Adler, to whom sex was nothing more than a means to an end.

Her eyes searched his and she bit her lip, then nodded. "Is that...is that going to change things between us?"

Sherlock had to chuckle at that. "Hardly. It's not like I'm going to go out and look for sexual gratification elsewhere, Molly. I never even realised I was capable of that type of feeling until I kissed you. I'm certainly not interested in kissing anyone else. I'm just glad we have some guidelines, so let's just see where this leads. No pressure."

Molly smiled with relief. "Thank you, Sherlock." She slipped her hands around his waist again and leaned her head against his shoulder, and Sherlock could smell her hair again. Awkwardly, he raised his arm so he could settle it over her shoulders, and was surprised at how good it felt, just sitting there with her quietly.

Within a short time, they began to talk, asking each other questions, learning more about one another, random things. Molly loved chocolate, especially those hazelnut flavoured Ferrero Rocher balls, while he shared his love for ginger nuts. Molly loved Star Trek and some American show called _The Big Bang Theory_.

Sherlock, of course, was familiar with Star Trek, but not the American show, so he asked her what it was about. Molly explained that it centred around four male friends and a woman, and that one of the characters was an emotionally stunted genius physicist.

"Sheldon kind of reminds me of you, actually," confided Molly with a grin.

Sherlock pursed his lips. "You think I'm a genius, or emotionally stunted, or both?"

Molly giggled and nudged his side with her elbow playfully, "Well, both." He pouted at that, and she added hastily, "but I think you've made great strides lately in your emotional development."

Sherlock slid his arms around her waist then. "Great strides, huh?" He leaned in close, and was not disappointed by Molly's response.

Her arms came around his neck to pull him in the rest of the way, and she responded with, "Definitely," just before their lips met. A ripple of sensation spread through him again. Sherlock allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the feel of her soft lips, but pulled back as soon as he realised he was tempted to start using his tongue to explore her mouth again. He sincerely hoped these urges would settle down soon. Molly had become quite the distraction for him.

He pressed his forehead against hers, so she would know he wasn't drawing back because he wasn't interested in kissing her, and said, a little huskily, "Let's go back to talking for now. What kind of music do you like?"

Molly's voice was not quite steady as she answered, "My favourite band is Paramore, but I enjoy classical music too - and I love your violin playing."

Sherlock smiled. He'd never heard of the band, but her remark about liking his violin playing brought to mind the piece he had been composing after Christmas. "I've been working on an original composition recently, if you'd like to hear it?" He raised an inquiring brow at her.

"I'd love to," Molly enthused, clasping her hands together.

Sherlock stood and walked over to his violin case, extracted the instrument, carefully rosined the bow, then played the composition by heart.

He ended the piece with a flourish as Molly applauded. "That was wonderful, Sherlock. You really have a gift."

Sherlock smiled modestly as he returned the violin along with the bow to its case and replaced it in its former position. "Thank you, Molly." Then he sat beside her once again.

The more they talked, the more Sherlock wanted to know about the woman sitting with him. It was a nice change to discuss things rather than deduce them.

They were still talking, when John arrived home alone.

_Apparently the date didn't work out, unless she was playing hard-to-get, _thought Sherlock, who had expected to either see John arrive home with the woman, or not return home at all. Most of the time when John was involved in a relationship, he slept over at his girlfriend's place, knowing that Sherlock had a tendency to criticise his choices. The only woman Sherlock had really thought rather nice was John's first girlfriend after he had moved into Baker Street, Sarah. He suspected they had broken up thanks to her not being able to convince John to stop risking life and limb with Sherlock on cases, but John had never explained what had happened.

John seemed a little surprised to see Molly. "Oh, hello there. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything. I'll just be heading off to bed in a mo."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Yes, he had his arm around Molly's shoulders, but there was obviously nothing improper going on, they were both fully clothed, after all.

Molly stood. "Hi, John. I should be going too. I guess we lost track of time."

"So, uh, things are going well between the two of you then? Sherlock is treating you well?" asked John curiously and Sherlock frowned.

To his surprise, Molly put her hands on her hips and gave John a fierce look. "I know you have been friends for quite awhile, but I feel like you assume that Sherlock has no feelings. I have no idea why people seem to think Sherlock is incapable of human emotion."

John looked chastened. "You're right, Molly. I'm sorry." He turned to Sherlock. "So sorry, mate. Force of habit, I guess."

Sherlock nodded solemnly and rose to stand beside Molly. "Apology accepted."

"Well, goodnight, you two," John said, beating a hasty retreat upstairs to his room.

Molly turned to look at Sherlock. "Thanks for tonight. Spending time with you this way, it's something I've wanted to do for so long, but I didn't really think you'd ever want to know about me or be interested. I'm really quite boring, and I certainly haven't had all the adventures that you've had with your cases."

Sherlock placed a hand on her shoulder. "I don't find you boring at all, Molly. I have the feeling I've only scratched the surface when it comes to you, and I'm looking forward to continuing this exploration."

She gave him a dazzling smile that set his heart racing. _God, she's beautiful,_ he thought, even as she peeked up at him through her lashes and asked, "Well, aren't you going to at least kiss me good night?"

Yes, he was really enjoying this side of Molly, he reflected, lowering his lips to hers for an intense kiss that left him longing for more. He felt like one of those love-sick young men he had seen in his uni days, mooning over this woman or that, allowing themselves to be ruled by their sexual urges. And make no mistake, Sherlock was finally starting to understand what that was all about, even though he and Molly had not been together long.

After Molly had left, Sherlock gave a small sigh. He wished he could have asked her to stay, but he knew her answer would have been no. Their relationship was not at that point yet, she had made that perfectly clear with her talk of sex and love going hand in hand. And yet the heart he had previously doubted existed was telling him he wanted her, to be with her physically. Molly Hooper was uppermost in his thoughts most of the time lately. Was it possible he was falling in love with her so fast?

_My mind palace is going to be busy with that for awhile,_ Sherlock thought, as he got ready for bed.

He was still puzzling over love and what the word truly meant when he fell asleep.

* * *

**Author's note:** So, I thought it was time for Sherlock and Molly to have a little "talk". I feel this is something Sherlock would want to make sure he is clear on, especially because he is trying to do the right thing, and is starting to discover things about himself that he has not had to deal with in the past.

I feel it is important to show the development of their relationship as they get to know one another. It is such an integral part of a real relationship and as my regular readers know, I usually try to keep my stories fairly close to reality, so I hope this is a relatable story. I believe people should establish boundaries early on and be honest about them.

Reviews always appreciated, short or long. Share your own views even if they differ from mine, I won't be offended - I welcome the dialogue!


	5. Making Decisions

Over the next couple of weeks, Sherlock continued to see Molly as time permitted. Sometimes she invited him over to dinner, and she showed what an excellent cook she was, on other occasions they hung out at Baker Street. If John was around, they kept the topics neutral, learning more about each other's likes and dislikes, sometimes including John in their conversation. If he happened to be absent, they spent more time in developing their physical relationship.

Sherlock particularly enjoyed stroking Molly's palm with his thumb. She liked it when he put his arm around her so they could snuggle as they watched crap telly together. They were kissing more in different ways, and Sherlock's hands sometimes massaged her shoulders. He itched to drift his hands lower, to feel her curves and discover for himself whether his assessment of her measurements was actually correct, but he feared both a negative response from Molly and a stronger response of longing on his own end, so he restrained himself. Their kisses though, they were becoming more intense when they did kiss, and each time it got just a little harder to pull away.

Molly was fast becoming his addiction, but he still couldn't determine whether being addicted to her and her kisses equated to love. He just knew he enjoyed spending time with her, and he missed her when she wasn't around.

As January gave way to February, Sherlock found himself out of town in Dartmoor with John, investigating a giant hound, which turned out to not be a giant hound at all, just an oversized dog - go figure, and other things that made for a rather intriguing case. By the end of it though, he was anxious to return home, to see Molly.

On the train ride back to Paddington Station, he texted Molly that the case was solved, and she responded with an invitation to come to her flat for another of her home cooked dinners. Smiling to himself, he accepted the invitation and put his phone away.

John looked at him curiously. "I suppose you were texting Molly?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his friend. "Brilliant deduction. I'd hardly be texting Mycroft or Mrs. Hudson now, would I? I won't be home for dinner, by the way."

John's lips twitched in amusement. "You and Molly have been getting pretty close lately, haven't you?"

Sherlock shrugged casually. "You could say that."

"So, you are definitely admitting to being in a romantic relationship then?" questioned his friend in his usual nosy manner.

Sherlock blew out an exasperated breath. "Yes. Yes I am," he answered, hoping that would be the end of the subject, but of course, John had decided to take a sudden interest in his personal life, now that he had one.

"Care to elaborate then on how things have progressed with you and your pathologist? Have you slept together yet?"

Sherlock frowned at John. "Why must you persist with this type of interrogation? Just because you've jumped into bed with practically every woman you've ever gone out with, doesn't mean I should do likewise." Then he felt compelled to add honestly, "Besides, Molly and I have set boundaries with ourselves and have agreed that indulging in that type of physical intimacy should wait until such time as we are in love and in a committed relationship." He was unable to prevent the small sigh that escaped his lips.

For once, John seemed to pick up on that. "I'm going to make a deduction, Sherlock, and if my deduction is right, you are going to be honest and tell me, okay?"

Sherlock pursed his lips and stared out of the train window, looking at the passing countryside. "Okay." _This will be interesting_, he thought. Deductions were definitely not John's strong suit.

"I think you're falling in love with her, and furthermore, I think you want to sleep with her. You're ready, mate, aren't you?"

Sherlock folded his arms in front of himself and turned to look at John. "So what if I am? What if I _do_ want to sleep with her? Isn't that the way romantic relationships usually progress?" He thought for a moment. "In fact, from what I've seen, love doesn't even necessarily enter the equation when it comes to sexual desire. Come to think of it," and here he gave John a hard stare, "how often have you been in love with the women with whom you have been intimate?"

John flushed slightly and folded his arms. "We're not talking about me here, Sherlock. But to answer your question, I'll admit that a strong attraction between two parties is generally considered a good enough reason to have sex. It feels good, I won't deny that. But the expectation is that in time, that attraction will lead to a more lasting commitment. Unfortunately, in my case, that hasn't happened yet."

Sherlock huffed out an exasperated breath. "Well that's all well and good for you, John. I have not had to deal with these types of feelings before, and Molly is not your typical woman either. I respect her too much to do anything that she would be uncomfortable with, which includes having sex."

He knew he was speaking more aggressively than he should, but John's words had really hit home, and he was afraid his friend's assertions that he was falling in love with Molly might actually be right.

John gave him a shrewd look. "What if she's in love with you too? What then?"

Sherlock ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know, John. It's not like I have any experience in these matters. This is completely uncharted territory for me." He felt almost desperate at this point. "What do _you_ suggest I should do, then?"

His friend looked at him appraisingly. "Bloody hell, I never expected to be giving advice on sex to my flatmate. You told me right from the beginning that you were married to your work, so I'm still trying to adjust to this new you."

Sherlock scowled at the man beside him. "Perhaps Molly is changing me for the better."

John let out a short bark of laughter. "Maybe things are changing in your personal life, but I certainly see no evidence of it when _we _are doing things together. I still haven't forgiven you for locking me in that lab and subjecting me to all that crap, those fake noises and all, just to prove your theory about the gas."

Sherlock felt rather ashamed of himself. "You're right, I'm an arse, what can I say?"

"You turned me into a lab rat, Sherlock," persisted John, with an accusing stare. "I think an apology would be in order. You never did give me one at the time, just tried to justify your actions. Don't you remember what you said?" Then he said, in an an awful imitation of Sherlock's voice, "I knew what effect it had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an average one."

Sherlock had to admit he was rather impressed that John could recall that line perfectly. "Okay, John. I'm sorry." He granted the concession.

"Apology accepted." Sherlock thought the subject was closed, but no. "And the fact that you were wrong about the sugar..." continued his friend, smirking a little.

Sherlock pressed his lips together. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you? The fact that I made a rare mistake."

"Rare mistake? Come on man, I've been a witness to several miscalculations on your part. Let's see now, there was the way you didn't even realise at first the cabbie in our first case together was the serial killer you were looking for, and instead you frightened the hell out of that American bloke. Another time, you almost didn't save that little boy because of your lack of knowledge of the solar-"

"That was different, John," interrupted Sherlock. "I had learned about the solar system, but simply deleted it as irrelevant."

John shrugged. "Whatever, still a miscalculation on your part that almost cost you a kid's life. And don't get me started on the fact that you didn't even twig to the fact that Molly's 'Jim' boyfriend was a psychopath."

"Point taken John," said Sherlock tersely. He still felt terrible that Molly could have been in danger because of his lack of perception on that score. He felt compelled though to make one thing clear to John about the psychopath. "Oh, and Moriarty was not her boyfriend. They went out only three times and she ended it after I told her he was gay. She told me that herself. Have you finished dredging up my past mistakes?"

"Not yet," responded John. "I almost forgot your biggest mistake."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And what would that be, pray tell?"

John's brows rose. "Don't you think all your deductions of Molly at the Christmas party about her boyfriend or potential one were complete rubbish? I would never have jumped to such a silly conclusion. Even I could tell by the time you reached the end of your monologue, that the present was intended for you, you big git."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You never informed me of this before," he huffed. "Besides, my deductions were not in error about the present being for someone special, I simply did not understand that the someone special was me."

John gave him an amused smile. "Oh, I rather enjoyed seeing you make a fool of yourself, acting like the jealous git you were, even if I felt bad that it was at Molly's expense."

Sherlock crossed his arms and gave John a baleful glare. "Well, you might have saved me the trouble then of having Molly confront me about my jealousy."

"In all honesty, I didn't recognise it myself as jealousy at the time. It was only after you told me what Molly said about being jealous that it made sense. At that time, I was still thinking you might have a thing for Irene Adler," admitted his friend.

"Oh, very well," Sherlock said, relaxing his posture and settling back more comfortably in his seat. "I suppose you are right about me jumping to the wrong conclusions at times. So _now_ are you done pointing out my failings?"

John gave him a friendly nudge and chuckled. "I'll take whatever mileage I can get. After all, you love to talk about your superior intellect, but even you are not infallible."

Sherlock's lips quirked at that. "Apparently not. But we have strayed from the subject at hand. I need your advice on what to do about Molly."

John looked thoughtful. "For what it's worth, I suggest you think seriously about how you feel, and if you love her, tell her the truth. That's all, that's my best advice." Then he added, "And you had better take those condoms with you when you see her, just in case."

Sherlock groaned. _Not the damned condoms again._ But then again, his friend was probably right. "I'll think about it," he said at last.

They remained quiet for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. Sherlock mulled over his situation. The closer he got to home and Molly, the more he felt anticipation at seeing her soon. He was longing to share with her the details of their latest case and he desperately wanted to kiss her, to be home with her.

_Home_. The word suddenly struck him for the first time. When he was with Molly he felt like he was home, whether she was with him at Baker Street, or he was at her flat. He yearned for her in a way he had never thought possible. His heart began to beat faster as he continued to mull over things in his mind palace. He wanted to continue getting to know her, and having her learn more about himself. That had never happened before. He and John talked about things on occasion, but neither of them had dug into one another's past, nor had they even been interested in what had happened in each other's lives before they met.

_I want to know everything about Molly, where she was born, how she was raised, what made her decide to become a pathologist._

And then his thoughts shifted further. _I want to know what will happen in the future. I want to be with Molly exclusively. I don't ever want to lose her. I want to go home to her._

And that is when it hit him full force as he snapped out of his mind palace and back into reality. _I __**do**_ _love her,_ he thought wonderingly. _I love her. I'm in love with the most fascinating, sweet woman I've ever known._

He shook a dozing John awake in his excitement to relate his newfound revelation. "John, you were right. I do love her. I love Molly Hooper."

John rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I don't know already, mate," he grumbled, and Sherlock grinned.

_Tonight_, he decided, _I'm going to tell her I love her._ Whether she loved him or not was beside the point. He just needed to confess his feelings, to get them out into the open. From there, the ball would be in her court. He was committed to her and her alone.

Once the train had pulled into Paddington Station, Sherlock and John collected their things and headed back to Baker Street together.

When they were inside the flat, John asked curiously, "So, are you planning to confess your love to Molly tonight?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I am planning to do so, yes."

"And if she confesses her love to you, are you hoping to stay the night with her?" his friend questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Sherlock flushed. "I have no expectations on that whatsoever, John. I will simply play things by ear."

"Well, I hope you still have those condoms I gave you, just in case. Wouldn't want the girl getting pregnant now, would we?"

Sherlock felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He hadn't even considered that aspect of things. Yes, of course he was hoping things might progress further, now that he knew he loved her, but he wasn't necessarily anticipating they would immediately have sex, particularly as he did not know the state of Molly's feelings, and whether they had developed to the point where she knew she loved him as well. He was thinking more along the lines of maybe exploring a little more with his hands, feeling her chest as he longed to do. Was he even ready for actual sexual intimacy? The jury was still out on that. As he had said to John, he had no expectations as to how things would go beyond that, although he had to admit to himself that he was hoping Molly would listen to his confession and declare the same sentiment.

Nevertheless, before Sherlock left the flat, he went to his bedside drawer, withdrew the two foil packets and shoved them into his coat pocket.

"Good luck, mate," called John as he closed the front door, and he wasn't sure whether John was referring to him declaring his love for Molly, or getting lucky.

* * *

**Author's note:** Did you like the references to THOB? I feel it is probably rarely used in Sherlolly stories because Molly isn't in that episode, but there's no date for it in the show, so I figured, why could it not have happened during that six month period when Irene Adler was hiding, before she came back to get her cameraphone? Besides, being a dream, time events don't really matter in any case.

I hope you enjoyed Sherlock coming to the realisation he does indeed love Molly. Did you enjoy the conversation on sex with John? I find it rather amusing to think there is something John has more knowledge of than Sherlock.

What do you think will happen when he confesses his love? Will Molly confess hers as well? Make your deductions in the review box below!


	6. Making Confessions

**Special** **Note** to a cowardly guest reviewer who may or may not see this:

(For reference because I deleted it: Pissedoffredhead:Molly and Sherlock is not compatible just like you and writing aren't compatible)

I have no respect for guests who leave negative reviews just for the sake of it. If you have an issue with my writing, don't be a coward, use you real name and tell me why you have issues with it. If it is because you ship Johnlock, um, keep to your own fandom. If you don't like the fact I write stories with spiritual elements, nobody is forcing you to read them. I know my stories don't appeal to most readers, but guess what? I'm a very good writer. I work hard at what I do, despite my visual limitations which mean I have to work much harder than most other people to eliminate the usual typos to get a story ready for publication, and I feel my writing is of a high quality because I have worked on taking advice and improving it. Ask the people who actually do read and review my stuff. I have no problem in receiving constructive criticism or differing opinions, but don't hide behind a fake guest name just to spam me.

To other readers: If you are someone who enjoys my style of writing, help me show this spammer they are wrong by leaving REAL reviews. That would really be a kick in the pants to people who are so rude to writers who are working to keep the Sherlolly ship alive. Thank you and much love xx.

* * *

Sherlock arrived on Molly's doorstep fifteen minutes earlier than their pre-arranged time, but was too impatient to wait any longer. He knocked at the door, and even as he did so, he could smell the delicious aroma of his favourite biscuit, mixed with the unmistakeable smell of home-made pasta sauce.

Molly opened the door, looking slightly dishevelled, wearing an apron and with her hair up in a hastily constructed bun, similar to the way she'd worn it on the evening he'd first kissed her, which of course made him immediately want to kiss her again. Stray wisps of hair were falling out of the bun and he thought she had never looked more beautiful. "Sherlock!" she exclaimed, looking at him accusingly. "You're early. I was just about to jump in the shower." She moved aside to let him in. "I must look an absolute fright," she added with a grimace, pushing distractedly at some of her hair.

Sherlock hung his coat on the coat rack and grinned at her. "Sorry, I was a bit anxious. It has been three days, after all." He bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips, then added, "I think you look beautiful."

She seemed a little surprised at the openly affectionate way he was behaving, he was usually somewhat lacking when it came to paying compliments, but at the same time, rather pleased. "Well then," she told him, "seeing as you are here already, you can keep an eye on the pasta sauce and the water I'm heating for the spaghetti. If it boils, just turn it off. I'm going to quickly duck into the shower."

"Okay," Sherlock answered agreeably. Declaring his love could wait until after dinner anyway.

Precisely twelve minutes and thirty seconds later, Molly was out of the shower and returning to where he stood by the stove. He had stirred the sauce four times. The water had not yet boiled because it had not been on a high setting so it had really required a minimum of effort. He was utterly amazed at her speedy return. Yes, her hair was still damp, but it was in a neat side braid and her exposed neck tempted him to kiss it. She smelled delightful. She had applied just a hint of makeup, mascara and lipstick to be precise. Sherlock had always admired the way Molly didn't try to improve her appearance too much by artificial means. Unbidden, the thought came to him once again, as he compared the perfectly coiffed and made-up Irene to Molly. Molly needed no artifice to attract him. Another reason he loved her.

The timer for the oven went off and Molly pulled the tray of ginger nuts out of the oven, setting the tray on a tea towel on the counter as she finished their meal preparations.

Sherlock watched, leaning against the kitchen island languidly, and observed the fluid way Molly moved, efficiently straining the pasta, then placing servings onto two plates before adding the pasta sauce and a generous sprinkle of Parmesan cheese.

"No garlic toast today, I'm afraid," she informed Sherlock, as she turned to look at him. "I didn't want to compromise the flavour of your ginger nuts."

"I can't believe you made them for me. I don't think anyone has made them for me since my mother." He stood up straight then and closed the two feet that separated them. "Thank you," he murmured, putting his arms around her waist and lowering his lips to hers. A few moments later, he obeyed the impulse that prompted him to remove his lips from hers and place a kiss against her exposed neck. He heard her sharp intake of breath at that and was satisfied. Then he released her to fetch two cans of Coke from the fridge.

As Molly put their dinner on the table, Sherlock took two glasses out of the cupboard and poured the Coke into them, then brought the glasses to the table.

As they ate, Sherlock couldn't help his gaze shifting frequently to the curves of Molly's lips. He also liked the cherry cardigan she wore, although he felt a slight twinge of jealousy, remembering she had been wearing it on the day she had introduced "Jim from IT" to him. Then he reassured himself that Molly had told him she had ended it after seeing the man only three times.

They talked about what had happened during the past three days. Sherlock explained the details of his case, and related how he had erroneously theorised that there was a hallucinogenic agent in some sugar and had done an experiment with John, who had not been amused.

Molly, of course, was not impressed either, and Sherlock rather wished he had been a little less honest. But tonight was all about being honest. If she loved him back, it would have to be flaws and all, and Sherlock knew he had many of them.

In an attempt to show Molly he was not a complete arse, Sherlock offered to do the dishes once they had finished eating, while Molly took the now cooled ginger nuts and placed some in a container and others on a plate.

With those tasks accomplished, Molly made them cups of tea and they retired to her sofa. Sherlock helped himself to two ginger nuts from the plate he had carried over to her coffee table. He felt nervous, knowing the time was coming where he needed to make his confession.

After finishing the biscuits and taking a fortifying sip of tea, Sherlock turned to Molly, reaching for her hand. She looked at him expectantly, questioningly.

"Molly," he began, clearing his throat, which suddenly felt extremely dry, despite the sip he had just taken of his tea. He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her, but suddenly, he couldn't say anything, it was like he had become paralysed with fear. Was he moving too fast? They had only been together for three weeks. Would she even think he was sincere if he told her he loved her? Worse still - would she think he was just telling her he loved her so he could sleep with her?

Her eyes searched his. "Sherlock? What is it?"

He swallowed. "I, uh...missed you."

Her grip tightened slightly on his. "I missed you too." Her gaze was so soft as she looked at him. His heart thudded in his chest.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but unfortunately, Toby chose that moment to make a plaintive meow and hopped onto his lap, forcing him to drop Molly's hand. He looked at the animal. _Bloody bad timing_. "Not now," he growled, and Toby meowed again, before sulkily hopping back down. It was uncanny how that cat seemed to understand.

Molly's lips curved upwards. "He likes you," she commented, even as the cat plodded away and jumped onto the armchair, turning around several times and kneading it with his paws before settling down and closing his eyes.

"I can't for the life of me think why, it's not like I treat him very well," he commented and Molly laughed.

"You know that's rubbish. I've seen you scratching his belly on this very sofa several times at this point."

"That's only because he comes up to me first, I never initiate the contact,"he informed her loftily and she continued to look amused. Now, where was he? That cat had distracted him. Oh yes, he wanted to confess his love for Molly.

She was looking at him with a slight smile on her lips and he was completely discombobulated. How could one woman bring out such overwhelming emotion in him?

He stared at her, finding himself still unable to speak the words he longed to say, Even as his heart thrummed erratically. Molly furrowed her brow. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

Finally he took fortifying breath, took hold of her hand again and forced himself to jump into the abyss of the unknown. "I…I need to confess something to you, Molly."

She tilted her head slightly, considering him. "Confess? What an earth do you mean? Did you do something wrong? Did you do something to anger John further?"

Sherlock ran his free hand through his hair "No, it's not that at all. I need to confess-" he swallowed, took a deep breath and uttered the fateful words, "that I love you."

"You love me?" There was a tone of wonder and uncertainty in her voice.

"Didn't I just tell you so?" he asked, pulling his hand away from hers. "why would I say it if I didn't mean it?"

Molly's hand came up to play with the end of her braid. "It's just that, well, we've only been seeing each other for three weeks. You weren't even aware of your feelings until I confronted you with them, and that was barely a month ago. How can you be sure you love me and that this isn't some infatuation?"

He huffed out a breath. This was going exactly the way he had feared, rather than the way he had hoped, which would have been to receive a declaration of love from her as well. She didn't believe him. "It's not infatuation, Molly. Perhaps we have only been together for a short time, but I've known you already for years. I want to keep getting to know you better."

When her expression continued to be one of bemusement, he continued. "Molly, you must understand. All my life I have prided myself on being able to set aside sentiment and emotion in favour of cold, pure logic. I have been able to remove myself from any given situation and look at it as an outsider."

"Like Spock, from Star Trek," interrupted Molly with a grin, and Sherlock frowned.

"I'm trying to explain myself to you and you find it necessary to make Star Trek references?" He glowered at her.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock," she murmured penitently, laying a soothing hand on his arm. "Please go on. I won't interrupt again."

He forced himself to think back to the point he had been trying to make, then continued. "Anyway, I have come to realise I can't do that with you, be cold and logical, removed from feeling anything. Moreover, I don't _wish_ to do that with you. I want…to explore things with you, to embrace these feelings you've aroused in me."

He had to make her understand. "When I'm not with you, I want to be with you, and when I'm with you, I want more, Molly. I-" He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again, reaching over to take her hand again, "I just wanted you to know how I felt. This is not a game to me, and you're not an experiment for me in trying to understand these emotions. If you don't feel as strongly about me, that's okay."

"Oh, Sherlock," she breathed, and his name was a caress on her lips. "I believe you. I just needed to be sure that you weren't telling me this out of some notion that you ought to be saying it, because you are ready for us to have sex."

Sherlock's fingers that were not engaged in holding Molly's hand twitched slightly as he forced his expression to remain unchanged. Well, that pretty much confirmed that she wasn't ready for it, even if he was. "Of course not," he agreed hastily, hating the sinking feeling in his stomach. He wasn't sure whether it was happening because he knew Molly did not wish to take things to the next level, or because she had not told him she loved him.

But then, she looked at him shyly. "I think I've fallen in love with you. At least, I don't think what I have for you is a crush anymore."

He felt his breathing accelerate as a result of her own, much longed for confession, and he observed that Molly's chest was rising and falling more quickly, but he couldn't be certain whether it was from nervousness or anticipation at what her words meant for them. She was such a curious combination of innocence and sweetness, with a thread of strength that came from within.

He wanted to kiss her, desperately, but that same little voice inside himself told him that he had to make things clear to Molly. From this point on, she would be the one dictating how fast things went between them. He shifted his position slightly so he was facing her more directly, and he raised his free hand to tilt her chin towards him. "Molly, I have to be honest here. While I didn't confess my feelings for you in order to pressure you in any way to move things forward with our relationship, I have to admit to you that I do want more than just kisses. I want to touch you, to explore your body, to see it." He stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb. "And when you're ready, I want to make love to you, because I love you, and not because I want to have sex. As you pointed out yourself, there is a difference between sex and love."

Molly licked her lips before she responded. "I appreciate your honesty. Like I told you as well, I was raised to believe that sex should be something very special, done in a committed relationship. I don't think we're quite there yet." Then she blushed as a smile curved her lips. "But I don't object to us taking things just a little further for now."

He wondered what she meant by that, until she too shifted to face him more fully, releasing his hand and running it gently over his shirt to where his heart was beating wildly.

She leaned in closer towards him and Sherlock placed his hands on her shoulders, and he bent forward until their lips met. Sweet sensation washed over him. It felt different somehow, almost as if they were pledging themselves to one another. Molly's hands moved until they curled about his neck.

Feeling a little impatient at their awkward position, Sherlock removed his hands from Molly's shoulders to place one beneath her knees and the other at the small of her back so he could shift her onto his lap sideways,

He held his breath, wondering if Molly would pull away. She had to be aware, in this position, of the desire he felt for her. But instead, she gave a small murmur of contentment, pressing herself closer to him.

They kissed for a long time, exploring one another's mouths with a little more boldness than before, and Sherlock even ventured to press kisses to other parts of her face and her neck. He placed a hand against her breast through her cardigan and squeezed it gently, hearing the slight sound of her breath hitching as he did so, but she did not protest, and he was content with this tiny step forward.

Finally they stopped kissing and drew apart, both panting slightly. Sherlock could see that Molly's pupils were dilated with passion. His undoubtedly were, also. He pressed his forehead against hers. "Well, I should probably get going before I'm tempted to make an attempt to seduce you," he told her huskily.

"Yes," she responded a little breathlessly. "That's probably a good idea, because I'm feeling a little weak at the moment, and I'd probably let you." With those words, she slid sideways off his lap, and taking the cue, Sherlock stood.

He turned to look at a still seated Molly. "So, tomorrow is Sunday. If you're not doing anything, would you like to go out somewhere for brunch?"

Molly bit her lip. "I'd like that, but I don't get out of church until after eleven-thirty, so it would be more like just lunch."

Sherlock's eyes widened. Why had he not known this before? Really, it totally made sense now, her hesitation in regard to having sex, indeed, the fact that she was still a virgin. This definitely made things more complicated. Why couldn't he have found himself attracted to The Woman? He knew she would've been all too happy to give him sex, if he wanted it. But Irene was not Molly, and he loved Molly for the person she was, for her loyalty, integrity and sweetness.

Her next words made his mouth drop open. "You could always come with me to church and we could go out afterwards."

Sherlock swallowed. "Molly, I don't believe in God. I believe in what I can see."

Molly pursed her lips. "Why?" she questioned. "Have you even been to a church or actually tried to look into what it means to believe in God?" She folded her arms, and he could see this was another facet to her. If he loved her as he said he did, he needed to love all of her, and understand her feelings as well.

He blew out a deep breath. "Fine, I'll come to church with you tomorrow, but don't expect me to do any of that singing and praying or other stuff that undoubtedly goes on."

Molly unfolded her arms and stood as well. The dazzling smile she gave him was enough to make him realise he would do anything for her, to keep her happy. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him, while he placed his around her. "Thank you, Sherlock. If I didn't believe that you really loved me before, I certainly believe it now."

He couldn't help smiling at that. Perhaps going to church wouldn't be so bad if it would please Molly. He guessed he could sit in one of those uncomfortable pews for an hour or so. Then he wondered to himself why he knew what the inside of a church even looked like. Perhaps he had gone to church as a small child? He had certainly never darkened the doors of one as an adult. Oh well, now was not the time to think about that.

When Sherlock left a short time later, their plans had been made for the following day. He would take a taxi to Molly's flat, they would ride together to her church and go out afterwards for lunch. If nothing else, it was certain to be interesting.

As he let himself into the flat of 221B, Sherlock wondered what John would think about the idea of him going to church. Fortunately, his friend was absent, having apparently made his own plans for the evening, and Sherlock sat in his chair for awhile, thinking about Molly.

John was still not home when he headed off to bed. Probably just as well. He really didn't need the third degree about how his night with Molly had gone, especially in light of the fact that he had returned home rather than staying with her.

If he was very lucky, he thought, as he settled into his bed, he might be able to avoid John completely the next morning before heading out. Perhaps he had got back with the boring school teacher and was staying with her overnight, or perhaps it was someone else. To be honest, he didn't really care, as long as John left him to his own devices. And with these thoughts, he finally fell asleep.

* * *

**Author's note:** What did you think of Sherlock's declaration of love? I wanted to do something different than the usual story, where Molly is the first one to admit to being in love with him. I hope you liked it and the way he is still very careful to respect Molly's boundaries.

So, Molly has convinced him to attend church with her. Will he go through with it or make an excuse? You tell me, dear reader, don't be shy. There's no shame in making a guess even if you get it wrong, it's always fun for me to see what people think.


	7. Making Plans

Sherlock blinked his eyes open and peered over at his alarm clock. He suddenly remembered he had agreed to meet Molly before church and he groaned. He had overslept. Usually, his internal alarm clock woke him when he had activities planned, but in this case, he hadn't been thinking about it enough before bed to tell himself when to get up, and he had not thought to set the alarm either. He would have to hurry if he didn't want to be late.

He scrambled out of bed, almost tangling himself in his sheet in his haste, and quickly dressed. Fortunately, he had taken a shower before bed and had shaved at that time, so it was just a matter of selecting what suit to wear. He pondered briefly whether he should wear a tie, then decided against it. Fortunately, his purple shirt had recently come back from being dry cleaned, so he put that one on, knowing it to be one of Molly's favourites. She had commented on the colour more than once.

He hurried into the kitchen. He just had time for a quick cup of coffee. He noticed John sitting in his chair, reading a newspaper. John turned to look at him when he heard Sherlock in the kitchen. "Make me one while you're at it, won't you?" he asked, and Sherlock pulled out a second mug from the cupboard. "So, you're home then. Guess things didn't go the way I, at least, was hoping they would for you, mate."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, calling back to John, as he waited for the kettle to boil. "Actually things went very well. We've established that we both love one another."

John snapped his newspaper shut and stood, dropping it on the table before he turned to look at Sherlock in surprise. "Well, in that case, congratulations. I'm impressed at your restraint."

Sherlock poured the water into the coffee mugs and took one over to John, while holding the other for himself. "I told you, John, Molly has very strong views about sex, and I respect that. In fact, I found out last night that she attends a church, so well, that goes a long way towards explaining things."

"How do you feel about that?" asked John curiously, peering over his cup at Sherlock.

"Well, I'm heading over to her place shortly so we can go to church together," responded Sherlock with a quirk to his lips.

"You? Going to a church? Bloody hell, are you joking with me?"

"I am not in the habit of making jokes about serious matters, John," responded Sherlock, in an affronted tone.

"Sorry, Sherlock. I just don't see you as the church-going type. You do have a tendency to act as if you are smarter than God, sometimes," his friend pointed out.

Sherlock took another sip of his coffee and checked his watch. He really didn't have time for a long conversation right now. "Well, there's a lot I'd do for Molly, and I want to show her that I respect her and her beliefs, even if I do not adhere to theme myself."

John whistled. "Wow, you've certainly changed your tune. I guess it must be true love, abstaining from sex, even when you have realised it's something you want _and_ going to church,"he quipped.

"Don't tease me, John. At least I don't go bed-hoping and exposing myself to the risk of some sexually transmitted disease or getting a woman pregnant," responded Sherlock, somewhat more aggressively than he had intended.

That seemed to stop John in his tracks, at least. "All right, Sherlock, I won't tease you anymore. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing this new and improved version of you, however. I do hope it will filter towards me soon, seeing as you obviously behave quite differently with Molly than you do with me."

Sherlock took one last sip of his coffee and walked to place the mug in the sink. He didn't bother responding to John's comment directly, but instead said, "Well, I'll be off. Be back sometime after lunch."

He headed out the door, even as John said, "Well, have fun at church, mate."

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes, even though John couldn't see them, and headed down the stairs. He had just picked up his coat to put it on, when Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat and he groaned. He was already cutting things close.

"Good morning, dear. Where are you off to in such a rush?" she asked curiously.

Sherlock swung his coat about his shoulders and fastened the buttons as he responded. "Going to Molly's, then church, then lunch." As soon as he had said the words, he regretted them. He should've just skipped the church bit.

"You, going to church?" questioned his landlady disbelievingly, raising a brow at him.

He opened the front door. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, no time to talk right now, I'm running late. I'll see you later," he said, then exited to the street. Even as he closed the door behind himself, he heard her mutter, "Well if I hadn't heard it from his own lips, I would never have believed it."

Fortunately, a taxi came along right then, and he was able to hail it. Traffic was fairly light for once, and he made it to Molly's faster than he had anticipated, which almost made up for those extra conversations, he was only a few minutes late. He alighted and asked the taxi driver to wait for him, then walked to the front door of Molly's flat.

Molly opened the door with a smile. She looked very attractive, in a soft, pink cashmere jumper and cream coloured skirt he had never seen before. This was definitely not something she typically wore, so he assumed she liked to dress up a little for church. "Oh, you made it! I have to admit, I was kind of wondering if you would text me an excuse at the last minute."

She stood to the side and allowed him to enter. "Molly, this is obviously something that is important to you. If it matters to you, I am willing to do what is necessary to show you that you matter to _me_, in fact, you matter the most. I still have much to learn about you," he told her sincerely, before bending down to brush her lips with his own. Then he added, "Are you almost ready? The taxi's waiting for us."

"I'll just grab my handbag," she responded, scooping it up from the table as she said the words.

When they got into the taxi, Molly gave instructions to the driver for the location of her church, and they set off.

Once they alighted in front of a small church a short time later, Sherlock felt very self-conscious. He hesitated at the kerb, not wishing to join the people who were entering, in case someone spoke to him.

Molly took his hand and squeezed it. "It's oKay, Sherlock. If you're uncomfortable, we can sit in the back, and we can wait until the other people have gone in."

Sherlock looked at her and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Molly. I should much prefer that."

They lingered outside until the sound of the steeple bell indicated that church was about to begin, then slipped in quietly and sat in one of the rear pews. It was odd, Sherlock thought. There was something about the place; if he had to give a name to it, he would have said it actually felt holy.

As the service progressed, Sherlock followed Molly's lead, not wanting to stand out by remaining seated when she stood. He was surprised to learn that she had a beautiful singing voice, and she sang with conviction. He was further surprised to realise that the congregation did not just sing traditional hymns, but contemporary ones as well. Sherlock observed the other people in the church ahead of him. Often, they raised their hands while singing as Molly did, and she sometimes closed her eyes as she sang. She seemed to know the lyrics of the songs well, even though they were projected onto a screen at the front of the church. It was a fascinating experience.

And then the man at the front who seemed to be leading the service, some kind of minister, began to speak. He read from the Bible and then began to preach. He said that everyone possessed a God-shaped hole in their hearts, which people often filled with other things.

Sherlock wondered about that. Was that the case with him? He had had a drug addiction in his early university years, and he knew it, even though he liked to say he had just been a user, as he had confessed to Molly. Mycroft would have categorically said it was an addiction. He had also been a smoker. He still sometimes struggled with the desire to smoke, but had been using nicotine patches to help with that. He hadn't had a cigarette since the one Mycroft had offered him after he had identified faux-Irene's body.

In recent years, solving cases and the need to move onto the next one, with the thrill of danger and excitement, seemed to provide the high he had craved when he had been using drugs. This "God-shaped hole" notion certainly gave him food for thought, and he filed that information into his mind palace. Perhaps it was time to really start thinking about the possibility of a presence that controlled the universe rather than everything being random chance. He had often thought that the world was woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What if there was a higher power up there, directing each strand in a unique pattern?

The man at the front, he remembered now that Molly had referred to him as Pastor Briggs, finished his talk. Sherlock vaguely recalled that it was called a sermon, although he had no idea how his mind palace had dredged up that information. Once again, he thought that perhaps he had attended church as a child, but had forgotten.

Everyone started to sing a hymn, and Molly looked over at Sherlock, smiled, then began to sing with everyone else. Sherlock couldn't help gazing at her profile, and as he did so, he had a sudden image of himself standing at the front of the church, and of Molly walking towards him in a white bridal gown with a veil over her face that glittered with tiny Swarovski crystals. The image in his mind was so clear, it was as if it had actually occurred, and he was reliving it. And at that moment, he knew without a doubt that he wanted to marry the woman who stood beside him. He wanted to share a life with her, to be with her, for richer or for poorer, for better or worse, in short, everything that people said to each other when they made vows.

After the church service had finished and they were eating lunch at a small restaurant nearby, Sherlock couldn't help being a little preoccupied. His mind palace whirled with thoughts about God, and then it drifted to thoughts on buying an engagement ring and proposing to Molly. Was it too early for that? Sherlock decided he would have to ask advice when he returned to Baker Street.

Molly, of course, being attuned to him as usual, gave him a concerned look, as they waited for their meals to arrive. "Are you doing okay, Sherlock? Was the church service too much for you?" She reached out a hand towards his, where it rested on the table, and he opened it, engulfing her hand with his own larger one.

He didn't want to tell her that part of his thoughts were occupied with the idea of marrying her, so he spoke instead about the service. "I've been thinking about what the pastor said, contemplating the idea that perhaps our lives are not merely dictated by chance, but ordered in some way by a higher power." He went on to explain his theory about strands being woven throughout the universe that intersected.

"That's a very deep thought," said Molly, after he had finished explaining. "I do truly believe that God is the one who sets things in motion in all our lives. He weaves the pattern of our lives according to our choices. When we make poor choices, God always finds a way to help us learn from our mistakes. I also believe that our paths cross those of other people's for a reason. God knows everything, what we've done, what we will do in the future and He works in our lives when we allow him to."

Sherlock's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He had never heard Molly talk this way. She spoke in a passionate and sincere tone, and he couldn't help admiring it. He filed away Molly's words into his mind palace, knowing he would spend some time later thinking about them. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "I will think about what you said. Thank you, Molly."

Her lips curved upwards. "You're welcome, Sherlock."

After they had finished eating, Molly asked if Sherlock wanted to come back to her place, but he declined, saying he had a lot to think about. She obviously thought he meant he would be contemplating the things of God, and of course, he did intend to do that as well, but he was more anxious to talk with John.

He hailed a taxi for her first, and kissed her goodbye, whispering, "I love you."

"I love you too," she answered with a soft smile, before entering the taxi.

When Sherlock arrived back at Baker Street a short time later, he was pleased to see that John was home. He was typing on his laptop, and it seemed as if he was adding the latest case to his blog. He turned, however, when Sherlock entered and asked, "So, how was church, mate?"

Sherlock went over to his chair and sat in it before answering. "It was definitely more interesting than I expected, and I certainly have things to think about, but there's something else I want to discuss with you."

John swivelled his head to look at him again. "Now, that sounds rather intriguing," he responded, apparently deciding to give Sherlock his full attention, as he walked to his own chair and sat comfortably in it.

"I need you to help me, John," Sherlock told his friend. "When we were in church today, I had this vision of Molly walking down the aisle to me and us getting married, and I realiSed that is what I want."

John's eyebrows shot up in astonishment. "You're saying you want to marry her?" He blinked, then shook his head in amusement. "Wow, first I'm telling you to go out with her, and less than a month later, you're ready to marry her. Have I stepped into the twilight zone or something?"

Sherlock frowned. "Don't make fun of me, John. I'm serious. You know I have never been interested in romantic entanglements in the past, but since I've been with Molly, I'v felt - _complete_, somehow. She completes me, and I know that I don't want to ever lose her. Therefore, the most logical thing would be for me to commit myself to her fully and propose marriage."

John blew out a long breath. "Well, that's a big step you're taking, but if you have made your mind up, I'll support you. Molly is a wonderful woman." His lips quirked slightly. "In fact, if she hadn't been so hung up on you for these past two years, I might have considered asking her out myself."

Sherlock couldn't help the slight twinge of jealousy he felt at the thought of John being with Molly instead. It made him even more glad that Molly had never shown any signs of interest in anyone but himself, besides that short-lived flirtation with Moriarty, which she had admitted was more about gauging his own reaction, rather than any real interest. However, just to make sure his friend didn't harbour any secret designs on her himself, he asked, "so, you haven't had any feelings of wanting to go out with her yourself lately, have you?"

John chuckled. "Of course not, Sherlock. In fact, I just met someone myself, and I have the feeling she might be the one for me."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward in his chair. "Oh, really? Who is she?"

A faraway look came into John's eyes. "Her name is Mary, and she's a nurse. Perhaps we'll have to go out sometime and have dinner together."

Relief washed over Sherlock. He was glad that John was truly not interested in Molly, and he hoped that John would find the same happiness that he felt when he was with Molly. "That sounds like a good plan," he responded with a smile. Then he asked, "So, how about you help me look for an engagement ring for Molly?"

"I'm free now, if you are up for it," responded John, and Sherlock nodded.

"Let's do it."

For the next few hours, they went from place to place, and Sherlock grew increasingly frustrated. Nothing seemed quite right until he finally found a small shop where the proprietor suggested he take a look at diamonds that were not already in a setting. "Do you have a shape in mind?" the man inquired.

After looking at so many different types of cuts, Sherlock had already decided on the cut he wanted for Molly. "Yes, I want a heart shape."

The man nodded and went to a small room marked _Employees Only_, then returned with a velvet pouch, the contents of which he poured carefully onto a small tray.

Sherlock picked up the diamonds, observing each one thoroughly, using a special magnifier provided by the clerk. He finally found one that he thought would be the perfect size for Molly. It was not too large for her hand, yet it would still be large enough to show her how much he valued her. "I'll take this one," he told the clerk. Arrangements were made for a ring to be made and Sherlock gave him the specifications, after looking at a ring-sizer. The clerk promised that the ring would be ready within the next few days.

When they left the shop, and were on their way back to Baker Street, Sherlock was filled with anticipation and excitement. "Well, John, that's done. When do you think I should propose? Perhaps I should do it on Valentine's Day?"

John rolled his eyes. "If you want to be so predictable, Sherlock." He drew his brows together thoughtfully. "You know, this is a leap year so you could try proposing on February twenty-ninth."

Sherlock's eyes widened and then he smiled at his best friend. "That is a fine idea, John," he told his friend warmly. "I guess that's what I'll do then."

And that night, as Sherlock slept, he dreamed of Molly in a small church, walking down the aisle towards him in the same gown he had thought about earlier that day, with a smile on her lips that matched his own.

* * *

**Author's note:** Well, there you go. Now you know why I tagged this story as romance/spiritual. I used a bit of Sherlock's talk to Mycroft in TST. I do believe our lives are a tapestry, beautifully woven by God with care. We are all unique, with different patterns.

I also love the God-shaped hole analogy which I have heard before and found to be a good one. If you have read my initial story, _A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage,_ you will see I borrowed it from there.

Sherlock imagining Molly clearly in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle to Him - well, if you remember this whole story is a dream, that of course is the image filtering into it from the "real" Sherlock. I couldn't resist the opportunity of incorporating the real Sherlock's past, including Molly's church and the shape of the engagement ring he chose for her.

I also have a timeline in my head that this time period is 2012, thus the leap year. Are you looking forward to seeing the proposal?

Please do tell me what you think of this chapter. I do not try to "preach" about my beliefs, but I do like to share them through Molly. I'm not ashamed of my faith, and reading my stories means you are going to see that coming through in a lot of my writing. I am returning a gift God has given me for writing back to Him.


	8. Making Dates

Over the next few days, Sherlock did not have any opportunity to see Molly because he was busy with various cases. However, he made sure that nothing would interfere with then having a special Valentine's Day together. In the past he had always despised the holiday, thinking it enormously overrated and just an opportunity for florists and stationers to make money, but this year, for the first time, he felt differently. He wanted to make it special for Molly.

Sherlock had already picked up the engagement ring, although he knew he would not be proposing on Valentine's Day. He had to agree with John that the idea was just too predictable and pedestrian. However, when he had returned to the jewellery shop to pick up the ring, he had browsed the establishment as he waited, and had seen a locket which had an inscription on it in cursive lettering that read, _Always in my heart_. Yes, perhaps giving her jewellery was also a little predictable, but it was the first time he had ever bought anything for someone voluntarily, and he felt it would be a good way to demonstrate his devotion to the woman he loved.

Sherlock showed John the locket and received his friend's seal of approval, then made reservations for two at Angelo's for Valentine's Day. John had his own plans with his new lady friend, Mary, who Sherlock had now met once and deemed the right sort of woman for John, perhaps even too good. His friend had told Sherlock he did not expect to be home that night, so Sherlock would have the flat to himself if he wished. Bearing that in mind, Sherlock arranged for Molly to meet him at Angelo's, and invited her back to Baker Street afterwards to spend some quality time together.

On the evening of February 14th, Sherlock arrived early at Angelo's and was shown to a small table in a more secluded area of the restaurant, although he could still see the door from where he sat. It was rather funny when the proprietor appeared at his table and discovered he had plans with a woman. For some reason, Angelo had always just assumed him to be gay. In fact, he had thought that Sherlock and John were an item, despite John's words to the contrary. Nevertheless, Angelo seemed quite pleased to know that Sherlock had finally found a companion.

"Candle for you and your lady," said Angelo, returning to the table and depositing one in a similar manner to the way he had done years earlier. Sherlock was glad of the soft ambience as Angelo lit the candle. This time he actually intended to eat, not look out a window because he was on a case.

He peered towards the door, watching for Molly. When she entered, looking a little flustered, apparently because she was five minutes late, Sherlock stood and waved her over.

She took off her coat and he drew in his breath. She was wearing the same sexy little black dress she had worn on Christmas Day. The best part of it was that this time he knew she was wearing it for him and was able to fully appreciate the fact, rather than feel a surge of jealousy that she had dressed up for someone else.

She concentrated on putting her coat behind her chair as she said, "Sorry I'm late. It took me simply ages to get a taxi. I guess everyone in London is out and about this evening."

"No problem," responded Sherlock, enjoying the way the dress hugged her curves. She was truly exquisite. She wasn't wearing that bright red lipstick today to make a statement and he was rather glad. It made him think too much of the carefully-applied-to-entice makeup of Irene Adler. Molly's soft coral shade was much subtler and more inviting - _and less likely to stain my mouth when I kiss her_, he thought, licking his own lips in anticipation at the thought.

Noticing his gaze lingering on her lips, she smoothed her hands along her dress self-consciously, then looked at him shyly as he moved to pull out her chair. "I hope you don't mind me wearing this again. I don't own many fancy clothes and I thought Valentine's Day warranted something more special than a jumper and skirt or trousers."

Before she could sit, he snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her towards him, giving her a lingering kiss. "I think you look incredibly sexy, love," he murmured, before stepping away so she could sit.

He sat as well, satisfied to see the little dimpled smile on her face at his words.

At that moment, Angelo himself returned, and to Sherlock's practiced eyes, it was obvious the man wished to view Sherlock's date more fully. He was proved right when Angelo exclaimed, "So, this is the woman who has captured the heart of the best detective in London." He looked at Molly appraisingly, then back at Sherlock. "Anything on the menu, for both of you, no charge!" he announced grandly, handing them both menus, then left them to view them in peace.

Molly raised an eyebrow once Angelo had departed. "Did you get him off a murder charge?"

Sherlock grinned. "As a matter of fact, yes. I proved he was breaking into a house at the same time a triple murder was taking place in a different part of town. So he ended up with much less jail time."

Molly laughed, then commented, "He seems quite interested in your love life."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "One day I'll tell you about the way he was convinced John and I were on a date, when we came here during our first case together."

Their conversation paused as they perused the menus. As Molly was having trouble deciding, Sherlock suggested, "Why don't you try the fettuccine Alfredo? It's very good, but, as I told you when you made it for me, doesn't compare to yours. That way you can see for yourself what a good cook you are."

Molly's lips quirked. "I had forgotten about that. All right I'll try that. How about you?" she questioned, raising her eyes to Sherlock's face over the menu.

His own lips curved upwards as he responded. "Well, you have ruined fettuccine Alfredo for me here, so I think I might have the lasagna."

After their meals were brought, they ate, talking every now and then about how things had been going over the past few days. Molly told him about several of the post-mortems she had performed, and Sherlock listened with interest as she explained how she had pinpointed several causes of death.

"I think people in general underestimate the importance of people like you and what you do at the hospital. I may be a detective, but you are a detective as well, in the way you determine causes of death on a routine basis," he remarked.

Molly beamed. "What a wonderful way to think of it! I never really thought about my job that way before, but I guess you are right. It's no wonder we work together so well." She then proceeded to talk about another post-mortem she had performed and Sherlock's mind drifted a little.

She really was a remarkable woman, and he hoped they would get to work together soon if he was investigating a corpse on which she was conducting a post-mortem. For some reason, the idea of them working together closely, now that they were a couple, pleased him very much. He could imagine them working side-by-side, stealing the occasional kiss. Molly noticed the smile that spread across his face at the thought.

"What are you smiling at, Sherlock?" she asked curiously. "Telling you about a gangrenous gallbladder that turned septic doesn't seem funny to me."

Sherlock's lips twitched. He had indeed lost track of what she had been saying, too busy with his own thoughts. "Sorry, Molly. I was just thinking about how much I will enjoy working with you in the future, with the new parameters of our relationship."

She looked at him, a little confused. "In what way will things change? We've always worked well together."

Sherlock smirked. "Yes, but in the past I wouldn't kiss you afterwards, and I have every intention of doing that in the future. Maybe even kiss you at other times when I happen to be at the lab or in the morgue."

"I must say, I like the sound of that," replied Molly, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a serviette after laying her fork down on her almost empty plate. "My goodness, I am so full right now." Then she grinned suddenly. "I think you're right. This fettuccine Alfredo is good, but mine is better."

Sherlock chuckled. After she had returned the serviette to the table, she had left her hand resting upon it, so he reached over and put his hand over hers. "So, judging from your words and the food still on your plate, am I to assume you do not wish to have dessert?"

Molly nodded. "You assume correctly."

"In that case, I'm going to pay the bill and we can head back to Baker Street for a little alone time," he said, giving her a hooded glance.

He felt Molly's hand tremble a little and she bit her lip. "John isn't going to be there?"

"No, he has his own plans with a woman he just met named Mary. I wouldn't be surprised if he does not return at all," he responded. Noting her nervous glance, he added, "Don't worry, Molly. I'm not planning on seducing you, I promise. I just want to spend some time alone with the woman I love."

Molly cleared her throat and flashed him a quick smile. "That sounds really lovely."

After they had put on their coats and Sherlock had paid the bill, they took a taxi back to Baker Street. As soon as they entered the front door, Sherlock hung up his coat and took Molly's from her, hanging it beside his own. He liked the way they looked, hanging side by side. John's own jacket was missing, as he had expected. He thought again how exquisite Molly looked in that dress. She wasn't wearing those big gold earrings this time, just a delicate pair that dangled from her ears.

Sherlock invited Molly to precede him upstairs and he watched admiringly as she ascended. He wondered if he would have begun to pay attention to her earlier if she had dressed in more figure-hugging clothes. Probably not, he decided. He had needed to be confronted with the idea of losing her to another man to fully recognise his own feelings for her.

Once they entered the flat, Molly stood uncertainly and looked at him. "Should we sit on the sofa now?" she asked a little timidly. Sherlock realised they hadn't been truly alone together since the night they had confessed their feelings of love for one another.

He still had the locket to give her as well, and he wanted to find the right time for it, but at this moment, all he could think about was kissing her properly. "There's something I want to do first," he told her.

When she looked at him questioningly, he responded without words, closing the distance between them, tilting her chin up with his fingers and kissing her. A spark of passion ignited within him as he placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling her own hands reach up to play with his curls.

His mind became hazy as he lost himself to the sensation of her lips. He was tempted to slide the straps of her dress down her shoulders, to place his hands beneath the dress and feel those sweet curves. It would be so easy to lose himself in her, to give himself over to this need to possess her fully. His fingers twitched slightly on her shoulders as he desperately fought those urges and concentrated on just enjoying their kiss.

Finally, he pulled away reluctantly and looked at her. "God, I missed this," he murmured, kneading her shoulders lightly.

Molly's chest was heaving and he knew she was just as affected by him as he was by her. "Me too," she answered in a low voice.

"I guess we had better sit down now," he suggested and she nodded. "Tea?" He questioned, once she had seated herself.

"That would be lovely." she responded, taking off her shoes and tucking her legs beneath her. Sherlock liked the way she felt comfortable enough to do that. He gave her the remote to the television. "Feel free to see if there's anything worthwhile on," he told her, then headed into the kitchen.

As Sherlock prepared the tea, he thought about the square box burning a hole in his pocket. He hadn't wrapped it, in fact, he doubted there was anything in the flat he could have used as wrapping paper. He hoped Molly would appreciate the gesture nonetheless. _I'll give it to her once the tea is ready, _he thought to himself.

When Sherlock returned to place the cups of tea on the coffee table, he sat beside Molly, following her lead by kicking off his own shoes. He noticed that she had turned the station to some presumably romantic film, if the scene of a couple kissing was anything to go by. He smiled at her. "What did you find to watch?"

Molly's lips curved upwards self-consciously. "I don't even know. I just figured a film would be better than a cooking show or reality TV." She picked up her tea and took a sip.

Sherlock took a sip of his own tea, then shifted so he was angled more towards her. "I have something for you," he said, pulling out the square box from his trouser pocket and holding it out to her.

Molly drew in her breath. "You didn't have to do that, Sherlock. I know you're not really big on sentiment, and taking me out to dinner was quite enough. I… I didn't get you anything."

"I don't care about you not getting me anything, and this is something I want to do, so take it," he urged.

Molly took the box and lifted the hinged lid, then gasped. "Oh, Sherlock," she breathed. "It's beautiful." She traced her finger over the cursive lettering and murmured, "Always in my heart." Then she looked at him and spoke softly, sincerely. "You're always in my heart too, Sherlock."

He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. "There's nothing in the locket yet, but I was hoping that at some point we will be able to fill it. Would you like me to help you put it on?"

Molly smiled at him. "Yes, please." She swept her hair away and up from her neck. Sherlock thought to himself how much he enjoyed seeing her with her hair down. He rose to his knees in order to lean over properly towards Molly. Then he extracted the locket from its box and clasped it around her neck. Before she could put her hair back down, he bent his head to kiss her neck.

She made a little sound of pleasure, and Sherlock was surprised when her arms came around him and she raised herself to her knees as well to press her body closer. He could smell that same scent on her, that one of jasmine mixed with vanilla, and it was insanely intoxicating. He accepted the invitation of her lips, feeling the softness of her body against his.

His hand came around to pull her still closer, even as he felt the stirring of his own body's response to the desire he felt for her. He knew he was torturing himself but it was worth it to have this moment. This time he followed the impulse to caress Molly's breast through the fabric of her dress, and he realised she was not wearing a bra, which gave him a clear indication that she too was experiencing a physical response to him. That alone almost made him lose control. He longed desperately to take her in his arms and carry her to his bedroom, but no, he had to do this right, for Molly's sake.

With a desperate effort he removed his hand from her breast and she sighed her disappointment against his mouth. She was certainly not making it easy, giving him these mute invitations to continue. He couldn't help but give voice to his feelings, pulling his head back slightly. "God, Molly. I want you so badly it hurts." Her eyes widened and he rushed to reassure her, "Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything you're not ready for, but you have to help me, Molly. When you press your body against me that way and make those little moans, you're giving me signals that make me want to just take you to the bedroom right now."

Molly blushed at that and moved away from him, even as his hand released its hold on her back. Her voice was not quite steady as she said, "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I got carried away. I know it's my responsibility too, to keep things from going too far." She gave him a rueful smile. "I know it's me holding you back, so I should be more careful."

Sherlock sat back on his haunches and looked at her gravely. "I know you take your beliefs seriously, and to be honest, I can certainly see the value in them. I respect them, and you." He reached forward to take her hand, which had unconsciously curled into a fist when she had spoken her own words to him. He suddenly wished he had brought the engagement ring along and proposed after all, so she would know he was truly committed to a future with her, but it was too late now, and he supposed another two weeks wouldn't make that much of a difference. "Just...just be aware that I'm doing my best to take this slowly."

He saw tears gather in her eyes as she swallowed, then responded with, "Thank you for being so understanding with me. I know I'm sending mixed signals, so I'm going to work harder at being clear." She blinked, and several tears escaped.

He reached his free hand to brush them away, then leaned forward to enfold Molly in a tight hug, feeling the tension within her. "Don't cry, sweetheart." The endearment escaped him as if he'd been calling her that for a long time, and he barely registered it, just knowing he wanted to comfort her, to reassure her. "Our relationship is about so much more than the anticipation of sexual fulfilllment," he said softly, stroking her back. "So, let's go back to talking about other things for now."

He felt her relax and put her own arms around his waist, hugging him back. "Yes, let's do that."

For the rest of the night they were careful to keep to neutral topics once again, continuing the process they had begun weeks earlier, learning about one another.

Molly confessed that she was a fan of an author who wrote period romance novels, named Barbara Cartland, and Sherlock wasn't surprised. He might have been, before he had begun truly getting to know Molly in a personal way, but now he had seen for himself her romantic nature. She was also a big Harry Potter fan and owned the entire collection of books about the boy wizard. Sherlock had not read the books, but he had seen bits and pieces of the various films on television, and he knew it was a popular franchise. Her favourite children's author was Enid Blyton and she owned many of those books. Sherlock vaguely recalled his mother reading those stories to him as a child. He couldn't help the thought that popped into his mind of reading to his own child one day, his and Molly's.

Sherlock shared his own interest in various authors of crime stories and mysteries when he had been younger, and mentioned Agatha Christie as one of them. Here, he and Molly found common ground. She had a collection of the author's stories that had been a legacy from her late father, another mystery buff.

Molly also shared the reason for her estrangement with her mother, who had begun drinking heavily after the death of Molly's father. Once again, Sherlock was reminded of how alone Molly was, and how he himself should be a little more appreciative of his own intact family unit. He determined to call Mummy soon. Well, perhaps he'd wait a couple of weeks and surprise her if Molly agreed to marry him. He knew his parents would be delighted about that. His parents had been making subtle (or not so subtle, in Mummy's case) hints about him settling down one day and having a family, to which Sherlock had always retorted that he was married to his work and had no time for that type of sentimental nonsense.

By the time Molly rose to leave, they had decided to continue this "getting to know one another" phase for another couple weeks, meeting in public places and possibly at the hospital, if Sherlock had any murder cases to investigate. Knowing his plans for the 29th, Sherlock suggested they go out for dinner that evening to "re-evaluate" things at that time, and Molly agreed, making her own suggestion they go back to her place afterwards for tea and discussion.

"That sounds like an excellent idea," pronounced Sherlock, thinking this would be the perfect venue for him to propose without making a public spectacle of himself.

Sherlock walked downstairs with Molly and helped her into her coat, then shared one last kiss with her. He then hailed a taxi for her and watched as she entered it and the vehicle disappeared down the street.

Upon returning upstairs, Sherlock got ready for bed and then opened his bedside drawer. He pulled out the small black velvet box and opened it, then gazed at the heart-shaped diamond ring that nestled within. Would Molly say yes? Would she be ready to take this next step so quickly? Only time would tell.

He replaced the ring box back carefully in the drawer and hoped the next two weeks, well, fifteen days, wouldn't drag too much. He was still planning on how and when he was going to propose when he fell asleep.

* * *

**Author's note:** I know, no proposal yet. I hope you enjoyed their Valentine date though!

So yeah, the locket - it is borrowed from my major story, _A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage_ \- if you haven't read it, give it a look, there are a lot of things I borrow from my "real" story for Sherlock and Molly). The locket was actually Sherlock's wedding gift to Molly. So yes, even the things they learned about one another in this chapter are also borrowed from that story.

So, the 29th is looming as is the proposal. Will Molly be ready for it? Their passion is definitely rising, but Sherlock is still respecting Molly's boundaries.

Here's a little spoiler - the next chapter will be a Molly POV, just to do something different.

By the way, if you watch _The Good Doctor_, you might recognize Sherlock's words to Molly about her being a detective as well, as something that was said by a pathologist in a recent episode of that show. I loved the analogy, so I used it! Sherlock's thoughts of kissing Molly at the hospital when they are doing cases together - well, that's how I think they could realistically write a season 5 with them together. Do a time jump of however many years the show is on hiatus for, and have them already established in a relationship, showing the occasional kiss, as Sherlock continues to work on cases. That would make me so happy. Yeah, I know it's unlikely. Thank God I can indulge my little fantasies here for them instead!

Follows/favourites/feedback greatly appreciated.

Updated with small revisions/corrections **9/12/19**


	9. Making Commitments

Molly turned her head and looked out the window as the figure of Sherlock grew smaller and smaller and finally disappeared from view. Then she settled back in the taxi and sighed.

Her hand came up to feel the locket and she thought of her own reaction to receiving it. The gift had been so unexpected, so _romantic_ and thoughtful. She was still trying to get used to actually being in a relationship with Sherlock, let alone knowing he loved her as she loved him. As for gifts though, she had thought it would take a long time before he felt comfortable enough to express that type of sentiment.

She knew that she had been perilously close to telling him she was ready for them to be intimate. She no longer wondered about his sincerity and commitment to her. The way he had forced himself to not take advantage of the situation had been an even more clear indicator that he truly respected her as well as loved her.

Molly had the feeling though, that her own values could and would most likely become compromised as things between them became more physical. For years she had guarded her virginity carefully, had never even been tempted to give her body to any of the few men she had been involved with. But with Sherlock it was different. It was as if their bodies called to one another, as if they were made to be together, and she knew it was because they were soulmates.

Molly continued to think about things as she got ready for bed that night. It was probably a good thing that Sherlock had decided they should keep their interaction a little more public over the next couple weeks and then re-evaluate things. She liked that he had had a specific date in mind though for them to spend time alone together. The 29th of February, that only happened once every four years.

As Molly settled herself in bed she suddenly had a crazy idea. Sherlock had never said anything about marriage or a legal commitment, and it was probably ridiculous to be contemplating such a thing, but she had heard about the tradition of women being permitted to propose to their men on the 29th of February. Why couldn't she do that? He could only say no.

With that idea in her mind, Molly reached into her bedside drawer and rummaged around for a small box. When she found it she pulled it out and opened the lid. There inside was a silver ring, just like a wedding band. It had been a gift from her father for her 16th birthday.

She fingered the ring lovingly in remembrance. Her father's words to her were still clear in her mind. "I'm so proud of you, Molly. You are becoming a young woman, and one of whom your mother and I are so proud."

She had grown up in the church, and had always expressed her desire to her parents that she wished to remain chaste until she married, as they had done before her. The ring had been an unexpected, but welcome, gift.

Molly had worn the ring faithfully until she had begun university. At that time, several of her classmates started questioning her about it. Some of them wondered if she was planning to become a nun, others mocked her for her values. In the end, Molly had succumbed to the peer pressure and stopped wearing it, although she still upheld the same values in her heart.

It was funny, she thought now. Keeping to those values had never been an issue before, but her feelings for Sherlock were so strong, and she loved him so much, that her body longed for that physical intimacy between them, that ultimate sharing of one another.

She slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand. It still fit. Not surprisingly, Molly had already reached her full height of five foot three by the age of sixteen and had maintained the same approximate weight as well. She rather thought that the ring would be a good fit for Sherlock's pinky finger. If she presented it to him when she proposed, and he accepted her proposal, would he consent to wear it until they married? Molly chewed on her lower lip for a few moments, thinking.

_Yes_, she finally decided. _I'm going to do it. I'm going to offer him the ring and propose and let the chips fall where they may._ Her decision made, Molly returned the ring to the box and placed it back into her bedside drawer, near the top this time for easy access.

As Molly drifted into slumber, she hoped that the next two weeks, well fifteen days, would pass quickly.

Surprisingly, the next two weeks did pass quickly. There was a steady stream of post-mortems for Molly to conduct, and a couple of them even included corpses of victims in crimes Sherlock was investigating. They talked as they worked together, exchanging the occasional kiss when they were alone, and went out to lunch if their schedules allowed it.

Being in public places was definitely a good idea, Molly reflected, as the 29th drew nearer. Their love for one another continued to grow as they spoke together about things, and on a couple of occasions Sherlock mentioned ideas about the future and doing things together, like taking a ride on "The Eye", or giving Molly an amusing tour of all the back streets and alleys in which he had found a corpse. She had laughed at that one. Only Sherlock would think of such a thing. _And he thinks I have a morbid sense of humour, _she thought to herself after they had parted ways that day.

Finally, the 29th arrived and Molly was almost breathless with anticipation. Sherlock had offered to come by the flat to pick her up so that they could travel together to Ribon, a Japanese restaurant, but Molly had said she would just meet him there. It seemed pointless for him to make an extra trip to her flat when he would be coming back there afterwards.

She had taken the day off so she could make his favourite ginger nuts for dessert, and the pleasant aroma of the biscuits filled the flat as she got ready for the evening.

Molly dressed in a floral print dress that had large red flowers on it, adding a white cardigan. It was a bit summery for the time of year, but this was a special night after all, at least she hoped it would be, and she did not want to be underdressed. There was a head scarf to wear with it, but Sherlock had made a comment about how much he loved seeing Molly's hair down, so she kept it that way, just pulling up the sides a little so it wouldn't fall on her face. She applied some makeup and a slightly deeper shade of coral to her lips. The tube of vivid red lipstick had been thrown away after that disastrous Christmas evening, and Molly felt it wasn't really to her taste anyway, too flashy.

She put on her coat, hailed a taxi and arrived at the restaurant a couple minutes early. As soon as she entered, Molly saw that Sherlock was standing near the door, and she caught her breath. As usual he was neatly attired in a suit, this time with a white shirt beneath. He had his coat slung over his arm and was obviously waiting for her. There was a single red rose in his hand.

"Allow me," Sherlock said courteously, reaching for her coat to take it once she had unbuttoned it. It was still so incredible to know he loved her as she loved him, and he was acting like a true gentleman as well. There was a glint of admiration in his eyes when he pulled the coat away from her body, then gave her the rose. "You look-" he seemed lost for words for a moment, then recovered himself, "very attractive, Molly."

She blushed a little, still unused to compliments from him. "You look very handsome too, Sherlock. Thank you for the rose, it's lovely."

They were shown to a table and given menus, and Molly carefully set the rose off to the side of the table.

Molly scanned the menu, a little unsure of what to order. She bit her lip in consternation and asked, "Do you have any suggestions? I must admit, I'm not very familiar with Japanese food."

Sherlock looked over his menu at her. "I'm sorry. You should have told me and we could have gone somewhere else."

"No, it's fine,"' she hastened to say, "I'm open to new things, but a little help wouldn't go astray."

Upon Sherlock's suggestion, they decided on a shared meal of sukiyaki, which entailed thinly sliced raw meat and vegetables they could dip into a pot with a special sauce to cook them.

Molly was a little embarrassed when she had trouble with the chopsticks. Of course, they were no problem for Sherlock, who ended up taking charge of the cooking and taking it in turns feeding her, then himself.

Every now and then, Molly would look at Sherlock and catch an almost secretive smile on his face.

After their meal was finished and they were preparing to leave, he commented, "I've been looking forward to tonight, Molly." Molly swapped her rose from one hand to the other as he helped her on with her coat, while he continued. "I've been looking forward to re-evaluating things between us."

"Me too," she answered, watching as he pulled on his own coat before they exited the restaurant, and he hailed a taxi to take them back to her flat. She always admired the way he seemed to be able to get the attention of taxi drivers as soon as they stepped out of an establishment.

Sherlock took Molly's key and opened the door, then sniffed the air appreciatively. "You've been baking. I smell ginger nuts," he proclaimed and Molly grinned at him.

"The twenty-ninth of February only happens once every four years, so I felt a celebration was in order."

Coats duly taken off and hung up, and rose placed into a vase, Molly decided she wanted to get the whole proposal thing out of the way sooner, rather than later. She took a plate of ginger nuts over to Sherlock who had kicked off his shoes and seated himself comfortably on the sofa. He had picked up the remote to flip through television channels.

"I'll be right back," she informed him. "Just gotta dash to the loo."

After a short stop in the toilet, Molly hurried into her bedroom and retrieved the ring from her bedside drawer, then returned to Sherlock who was contentedly munching on his second, or possibly third biscuit. She stood before him, reaching down to flick away a crumb from the side of his mouth, and he caught her hand.

"Molly, there's something I need to ask you, but I need to just-"

"Me first, Sherlock, please," she begged, feeling if she waited too long, her resolve to ask him to marry her would weaken.

He looked up at her searchingly. "What is it, Molly?"

She fidgeted slightly, then pulled her hand free from his grasp and swallowed hard, before looking down into his intense gaze. "I...I know we haven't been seeing each other for very long, but I know what I feel for you is real love. So um-" she reached for the ring she had placed quickly on her finger, not having a pocket to put it in and held it towards him. Sherlock's brow furrowed, but he waited for her to continue. "Will you," she swallowed again, "-will you marry me?"

She held her breath as Sherlock's brows lifted in astonishment. She was a little disappointed when he didn't respond in the affirmative or negative, but merely said, "There's something I want you to see. I've been thinking about our future together as well."

What was that supposed to mean? Why wasn't he answering? Was he trying to say he wasn't ready to move things forward so fast? She forced herself to listen to his next words. "There's something in my coat pocket I want you to see that will show you clearly how I feel about us, what I want from you. I'll just go get it."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll get it, I'm already standing."

Sherlock frowned slightly, "I don't think-"

"I'll get it," she insisted, and didn't wait for him to respond, but deposited the silver ring on the coffee table and then walked toward the hook on which his coat hung. She glanced towards Sherlock whose attention was briefly diverted by Toby deciding at that moment to rub against his legs.

"Bloody cat," he muttered, giving Toby a brief stroke on his back with his sock-clad foot, and Toby purred loudly before removing himself to settle onto his favourite armchair.

Molly couldn't help smiling at the sight. It really was quite amusing the way Toby had taken to Sherlock. Her hand slipped inside the coat pocket and she withdrew the object from within. She gasped at what she saw, then towards Sherlock, and he turned his focus away from the cat, looking towards her with a smile.

Molly looked down again at the object in her hand. Was it - a condom? What the hell was that supposed to mean? He was ready to sleep with her, but nothing more?

She saw Sherlock's face suddenly flush with colour as she looked at him again accusingly, with tears forming in her eyes. Before she could speak though, he had sprung off the sofa and he strode towards her quickly, snatching the incriminating object from her hand. "It...it's not what you think, Molly."

"What else am I supposed to think?" she asked, trying to force back the threatening tears that were blurring her vision. "I asked you to marry me, and you said you had something in your pocket that would show me how you feel and what you want from me."

Sherlock took her hand and said almost desperately, "Poor choice of words, evidently. That condom has been in my pocket for weeks. I should have taken it out. What I wanted you to see is in the other pocket."

He released her hand and reached into his other coat pocket and drew something out. Her eyes widened when she saw the black velvet box, much smaller than the one the locket had been in. It looked like - a _ring _box.

She looked at the box, then at Sherlock, who dropped the offensive foil packet to the floor and opened the lid of the box so she could see within it.

"Molly, this is what I wanted you to see, please believe me." He took the ring out and she saw the brilliant glitter of a heart-shaped diamond which made her draw in her breath. "My plan was to propose to you tonight, but you beat me to it." He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he dropped to one knee and held up the ring. "Molly, I love you. I'm saying yes to your proposal, and I hope you will wear this ring to seal our commitment to one another."

The tears she had been holding in spilled over at last, and she gave a huge sob, then fell to her knees as well, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He loved her _and _wanted to marry her after all, not just sleep with her.

It was several seconds before Sherlock said awkwardly, "Molly, can I put this ring on your finger now before I drop it?"

Molly laughed through her tears and pulled back, lifting her hand, whereupon he gently placed the ring onto it. And then he kissed her, softly, reverently at first, as if sealing their promise to one another. Her arms curled around his neck as he put his arms around her waist and pulled her to her feet. His kiss became more passionate, more demanding, and she surrendered to it, the exquisite sensations running through her body as they had never done before. He kissed away the tears on her cheeks, then trailed kisses from her jawline to the pulse that was throbbing wildly in her throat, before returning his lips to hers. She exulted in knowing he truly was committed and ready to marry her, and suddenly she was ready for the next step. He already had protection anyway.

"Take me to bed, Sherlock," she breathed against his mouth, as waves of desire crashed over her. "I want you to make love to me."

She expected him to lift her into his arms and do just that but, to her surprise and disappointment, he didn't. Instead, he dragged his mouth away from hers and held her firmly by the shoulders. "I want you, Molly, God, you have no idea how much, but I can't do this to you. We can't just allow ourselves to be swept away by passion. I know what that silver ring means."

She gave him a confused look. "You do?"

He looked down at her. His pupils were dilated and she saw the fire in his hooded eyes, how much he wanted her, she had felt the response of his body when he had held her close, but his expression was serious. "It's a purity ring, isn't it? It's too small for my ring finger, so I'm assuming it belonged to you."

She licked her lips, suddenly feeling ashamed. What was the point of a purity ring if you didn't seek God's help in remaining pure? "It was a gift from my father on my sixteenth birthday," she admitted.

He removed a hand from one shoulder to trace the curve of her cheek. "Isn't the point of one of those things supposed to be abstinence until marriage?"

Her eyes fell before his. "Yes," she mumbled, feeling even more ashamed that he seemed to have more self-control than she did.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he said gently, as tears blurred her vision again and she tried to blink them away. "I'm not going to let you throw away the values you have held dear for so many years, just to seek short-term sexual gratification. We are going to wait until it's right, and that means the wedding night." His thumb brushed away a tear that had begun to trickle down her cheek. Then he gave her a lopsided smile. "I only ask one thing, Molly. Marry me as soon as it can be arranged."

She smiled through her tears. "As soon as you want, Sherlock." The kiss they shared this time was more controlled on both their ends, gentle and tender. Molly knew that Sherlock had given her a special gift, respect and the willingness to set aside his own desires so that she could honour the commitment she had made to God as a teenager, and she loved him all the more for it.

* * *

**Author's note:** I'll bet you didn't see the reverse proposal coming, nor the little mix-up, did you?

The idea to have Molly propose was inspired by one of my readers who mentioned to me that February 29th is generally considered a day when a woman can do the proposing.

Do you like the way Sherlock was the one to put on the brakes here? Everyone faces temptation and succumbing to it does happen in real life, even among Christians. (I know, shocking isn't it?!) As always, I'm trying to keep things real here. Even Jesus was tempted by Satan after he spent 40 days in the wilderness, but he did not give in to it because he alone was perfect.

Yet again, I used something from my "real" Sherlock and Molly's history - the purity ring she showed him that she had talked about in her diary, shortly before this dream occurred. You can find that reference in _A Journey Through Molly's Diary_ if you are interested. I also thought I'd have Molly wear the dress from Rosie's christening - did you recognise it by the description?

Your feedback on this chapter would be much appreciated as always. If you have ever written a story yourself and asked others to review it, you will understand how much it means to get those little words of encouragement. Favourites and follows are great too.

Updated with slight typo corrections **9/12/19**


	10. Making Announcements

It was seeing that silver ring which prompted Sherlock to make his decision.

Since the night they had spent together on Valentine's Day, those small encounters with Molly had been moments he treasured. The little kisses in the lab when they were alone, sharing meals together in public, each one had been special and he had tucked those memories away into his mind palace. As his love for Molly grew, so did the longing he felt to be with her physically as well. He no longer feared the thought of sex, but anticipated it, knowing absolutely that when it happened it would be right, because it was with Molly, the woman he loved.

He had daydreamed several times about the potential scenario and how it might play out. Not all of them ended in the bedroom, but a significant number of them did, and he couldn't help hoping that one of them would be what actually happened. Those condoms had been burning a hole in his pocket, waiting for him to use them. He had even thought about what would happen if Molly became pregnant, and the idea of fatherhood no longer frightened him either. He thought he'd quite like to have a child who was a combination of both of them, and he began to daydream about that as well.

Thankfully, John had stopped asking him about what was going on between him and Molly, obviously more interested in his current relationship with Mary than Sherlock's with Molly.

On the evening of the 29th, before he headed for the restaurant, Sherlock placed the engagement ring box into his coat pocket. If Molly agreed to marry him, and she was ready to make love, he would not deny himself what they both wanted. The engagement ring was a public declaration of their intent to marry, and he felt Molly would certainly understand he was fully committed to her, as she had spoken about on the first occasion when they had discussed sexual matters.

She looked so lovely and his heartbeat accelerated when he saw her and presented her with the rose at the Japanese restaurant. He had been amused to discover her rather inadequate attempt at using chopsticks, yet another thing to file into his mind palace. Feeding Molly and himself had actually been rather enjoyable.

When they returned to Molly's flat together, and he smelled those ginger nuts, he knew she too had been planning a special night for them, however, he had never expected in his wildest dreams for her to actually propose before he had the chance to do so.

As soon as he saw the ring she was holding out, he knew it was not the right size for his ring finger, and that it must have been hers. If she had bought a ring, she would certainly have looked for something that would fit a man's hand. His quick glance then noted engraving on the inside - MH, along with a date, most likely when she had been given the ring. And that was when he understood exactly what type of ring it was. He didn't have much experience with that kind of thing, but he had heard of purity rings and knew what they meant.

_Abstinence until marriage_. It hadn't really hit Sherlock until then. Molly hadn't said so in so many words when they had discussed sex. She had talked about love and commitment. The ring though, it obviously spoke of a deep commitment to something beyond fulfilling the desires of the body. It was a commitment to honour the God she believed in, the God he was starting to believe in himself, now that he had been thinking every now and then about that church service he had attended and the words of that preacher.

Of course, he didn't want Molly to think she was the only one considering marriage, which was why he didn't respond to her proposal immediately. That had turned out to be a big mistake. He had completely forgotten those wretched condoms were still in his other pocket. What had originally seemed a good idea, suddenly seemed less of one, now that he had this new knowledge about Molly.

It was fortunate she had not held it against him when he showed her his true intentions. What he had not expected though, was for her to offer her body to him. It had been the hardest thing in the world to refuse her, and yet he knew it was the right thing to do. This was their future they were talking about, and he wanted everything between them to be right, which meant he had to help Molly honour her commitment to remain pure until their wedding night.

Now Sherlock looked at Molly, after that tender kiss, and marvelled at the extraordinary woman in his arms. The depth of her love overwhelmed him, in that she had been willing to give herself to him even without the benefit of marriage.

He took her hand and led her over to the sofa, then turned off the irritating background television noise. He picked up the silver ring from where she had placed it on the coffee table and placed it on the pinky of his left hand, then looked at her. "Tell me more about your faith, and why you have this ring."

She did so, explaining the manner in which she had been raised in the church, and to believe in the sanctity of marriage, which included remaining a virgin for her future husband. Come to think of it, it was a little intimidating really, to know that when they consummated their relationship it would be the first time for both of them, and Sherlock decided that once he got home that night, he was going to research things to make sure everything was perfect for both of them.

After Molly had finished talking, Sherlock ventured a question. "So, when should we start planning the details of this wedding of ours?"

Molly pursed her lips. "I guess as soon as we let people know we're engaged. Are you going to tell John tonight? I'm guessing he will be really surprised."

Sherlock's lips quirked with amusement. "On that you are mistaken. Actually, he was with me when I purchased the ring, and he was the one who suggested I propose on the twenty-ninth, rather than Valentine's Day."

Molly looked at him in astonishment. "You were already planning to propose before Valentine's Day?"

He linked his fingers with hers. "I was. In fact, that same day after we went to church together was when I asked John to come out with me so I could find a ring. It was very strange because while we were at your church I had this vision of you walking towards me in a wedding gown. That is what indicated to me that I wanted to marry you."

Molly's eyes were wide as she gazed at him. "I had no idea you would be ready for marriage so quickly, if at all, we had barely been together a month at that point. I was a little concerned you might think catering to legalities as beneath you."

Sherlock shrugged slightly, even as his fingers tightened on hers. "Molly, when I said those words to you, when I told you I loved you, I knew you were the only woman for me. There couldn't ever be anyone else, and I knew I wanted a permanent future with you. Being in that church together and having that vision though made me realise I _want _the legal commitment as well. I wasn't about to take the chance of letting you get away and move on to someone else."

Molly giggled at that, and she nudged him with her shoulder. "That could never happen, but I have to say I'm glad we're on the same page." Then she bit her lip suddenly. "Sherlock, I guess this is a question I need to ask too, although it's something I can live with if you say no."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. What could she be talking about? "What is that, Molly?"

"Would you be willing to consider having a baby with me?" Then she added hastily, "I'm not saying right away of course, and I know it might be an overwhelming prospect for you, but is it something you would consider?" She gave him a worried look, and he released her hand to stroke her face gently.

"It might surprise you to know that I had already thought about that, and I think I'd quite like to have a miniature version of you running around, maybe even more than one."

She gave him a relieved smile. "I'm so glad." She reached a hand up to tweak one of his curls. "But I'd rather have a child who has your wonderful curls and dark hair, and your eyes too, of course."

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens," he responded, bending forward so he could capture her lips with his own in a lingering kiss that left them both breathless.

After they broke apart from their kiss, Sherlock decided it would be best if he did not stay too much longer. He wanted to tell John the good news, and he supposed it would be prudent to call his parents as well. He knew his news would be quite a shock, although he was sure it would not be an unwelcome one. He was about to tell Molly he needed to leave, when he changed his mind, and decided it might be better to call his parents while Molly was with him. That way she could speak to them as well.

"Molly, I think I'm going to call my parents from here and let them know about our engagement," he told her as he reached into his pocket.

Molly bit her lip. "I hope they like me."

Sherlock grinned at that. "Molly, to be perfectly frank, I don't think they will care who I marry, as long as it is a woman of childbearing age." He couldn't help rolling his eyes a little. "Mummy has been desperate for grandchildren, but I think she had given up on me at this point."

Molly giggled and leaned her head against his shoulder as he placed the call.

"Hello?" came a voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello Mummy," said Sherlock.

"Sherlock? Is that you?" was his mother's response.

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "Seeing as you only have two sons, and I don't think Mycroft and I sound particularly alike, of course it's me," he answered, giving a sideways glance at Molly and smirking.

"Why are you calling so late, dear?"

Sherlock frowned and looked at his watch. "Mummy, it's barely half nine."

"Your father and I don't keep late hours, Sherlock. We aren't as young as we used to be, you know," came the pert reply. "Anyway, why are you calling us?"

Sherlock decided to tease his mother a little. "Can't a son just call his mother to say hello?"

He could almost see his mother rolling her eyes at that before she responded. "Some sons might, not you. So get on with it, then."

Sherlock took a deep breath, then released it slowly. "Very well, Mummy, the reason I'm calling you is to let you know I'm getting married."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Sherlock counted to ten, and when there was still no response, he wondered if the call had been disconnected or his mother had fainted from shock. "Mummy? Are you there?"

Finally she spoke. "You're getting married?" It was almost a whisper, as if she could hardly believe it.

"This is hardly the type of thing I would be joking about," he responded a little impatiently, then added in a gentler tone, "Her name is Doctor Molly Hooper, and she is the head pathologist at St. Bart's. We have known each other for years, and I have been in a relationship with her since shortly after Christmas. I hope you will give us your blessing."

There was silence for a few moments, and Sherlock could hear the unmistakable sound of sobbing before his father came on the line. "Sherlock, your mother is a little overwhelmed at the moment, but I can assure you, we are both very happy for you, son."

Sherlock felt Molly's hand on his knee as she whispered into his ear, "Should I say hello to them?"

Sherlock nodded and spoke into the phone again. "Would you like to speak to her? She's here with me. Well actually, I'm at her place right now."

He heard his mother blow her nose and then she came back on the line. "That would be lovely."

Sherlock handed his phone to Molly, and she said tentatively, "Hello?"

Sherlock listened to the conversation, mostly Molly's side of it, and he heard her reassurances to his mother that yes, it was indeed true that they were getting married, and no, they hadn't yet set a date, but they didn't wish to wait too long, and yes, he was treating her very well.

Molly's eyes flicked to his as she responded to that and his lips quirked, remembering her fierce defence of him when John had dared to ask the same thing. He supposed it wasn't surprising his mother would be concerned. He had shown a singular lack of tact with people in general in the past.

Finally the phone call was ended and Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. At least that was out of the way.

Soon after that, Sherlock stood to leave. "I had best be going now," he told Molly reluctantly. "Once I'm on my laptop, I can do some research on how quickly we can get married. I'll text you later, okay?"

Molly slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him. "Okay."

He placed his hands on either side of her face and bent down, even as she raised herself up on tiptoes and they kissed. Warmth stole through his body as it always did, and he sincerely hoped that he and Molly wouldn't have to wait too long before being married. He longed to move his hands along her body, to explore the softness of her skin. He sucked on her lower lip gently then pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you, Molly."

"Love you too," she whispered. He could see her chest rising and falling quickly, and he knew she too was finding it just as difficult as he was to keep things in check between them.

"I'll talk to you soon," he promised, as he swung on his coat, then headed out and back to Baker Street.

When Sherlock got home, he was surprised to see that John was there with Mary. They were sitting together on the sofa, looking very cosy. John looked up as he entered. "How did things go, Sherlock? Did you propose then?"

Sherlock's lips curved upwards. "Actually, she beat me to it. Apparently, being February twenty-ninth means it's a woman's prerogative to propose."

John chuckled. "I have to give her credit for being willing to take you on, on a permanent basis."

Mary gave him a nudge. "John, that wasn't very nice." Sherlock could tell by their interaction that Mary and John were getting very close themselves.

He pursed his lips. "Well, in any case, I said yes, and she agreed to wear the engagement ring I bought for her. I hope you don't mind having someone else around here on a permanent basis when we get married." Even as he spoke the words, he realised he hadn't even asked Molly if she would be willing to give up her flat and move to Baker Street. He supposed he could move in with her if she really wanted, but that would mean commuting back and forth when he had clients.

John cleared his throat rather nervously, and Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Was John going to tell him he didn't feel comfortable with Molly living there as well? He was very surprised therefore, when John spoke.

"Actually, Sherlock, this may seem a little fast-moving for you, but then again, you seem to be moving things along rather quickly in your own relationship, so perhaps it isn't that odd after all. I'm moving in with Mary."

Sherlock's brows lifted in surprise. That was certainly unexpected, but he supposed it couldn't have come at a better time, if indeed Molly moved in with him after they married. At least they would have some privacy.

Sherlock looked at the couple on the sofa for several moments, trying to process these things. Mary was positively beaming. "I'm very happy for both of you," he said, finding his voice at last. "When will you be moving out?"

John shrugged. "Over the next couple weeks, I guess," he responded, taking Mary's hand.

Sherlock nodded, then suddenly realised he had a question to ask of John. "With moving out and all, would you still have time to be the best man for my wedding, or am I going to have to ask Mycroft?" He grimaced at the thought. He still needed to tell Mycroft about Molly, although his brother undoubtedly already knew something was up. Sherlock was quite aware that Mycroft had him under constant surveillance, and he could not have failed to notice Molly's comings and goings lately.

John smiled at him. "I'd be honoured, Sherlock."

After Sherlock retired to his room for the night, he spent some time on his laptop in his room. First he researched what to do about getting married, and discovered that there was a minimum 28 days notice for intent to marry. Remembering he had also been thinking about making sure the wedding night was perfect, Sherlock spent some time online researching that as well. By the end of it, he was certain he would be able to please Molly adequately as well as himself, at least he hoped so.

He sent Molly a quick text to let her know of the minimum time constraints on preparing to marry and that he had asked John to be his best man. Then he asked if she wished to move in with him after they got married, explaining also that John was moving out, in the hopes it would help her make a decision in his favour.

Sherlock smiled at her answering text.

_Maintaining two residences once we are married does not seem very practical. Yes, I will move to Baker Street._

Sherlock climbed into bed and thought again that he needed to speak to Mycroft the following day.

And as he drifted off to sleep, his last thoughts were of how wonderful it would feel to share his bed with Molly. Suddenly it seemed rather large for one person.

* * *

**Author's note:** What did you think of Sherlock's thoughts about respecting Molly's beliefs and recognizing the meaning behind the purity ring?

Did you like the phone call conversation with Sherlock's parents? I love writing them into stories!

Were you surprised by the news John had for Sherlock? Yeah, I know, I sped up the timeline significantly, but hey, this is a dream, after all, and anything can happen!

Only one chapter left. Hope to hear from you

Updated with a couple typo corrections **9/12/19**


	11. Making Lists

**Author's note:** So, I had planned on finishing the story with one last chapter. After seeing the word count, I decided it was too high and that I would split it into two chapters. As a result I added a significant amount to this chapter which I hope readers will enjoy as more people react to Sherlock and Molly's engagement. Thanks to ninewood for wondering about Mrs. Hudson's reaction, which is what made me lengthen the chapter in the first place.

Because of the last minute additional writing/revising and a very busy real life rehearsal/performance schedule, I was unable to find the time to publish a second chapter last week, so this and the concluding chapter will be published this week. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

* * *

As it happened, there was no need for Sherlock to go in search of his brother, or to text him the news. In the morning, Mycroft himself appeared at his door while Sherlock was finishing a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon cooked by the much more domesticated John. Upon opening the door to Mycroft, John took one look at him and said hastily, "I'll be upstairs in my room if you need me, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and set down his fork. Just as well he had finished eating. "Good morning, Mycroft," he said pleasantly, attempting a casual tone as he stood to face his brother.

Mycroft looked at him unsmilingly. "It appears you have been coming and going quite frequently between Baker Street and Miss Hooper's flat," he informed Sherlock, who wasn't surprised that his brother was aware of his activity. That constant surveillance was a damned nuisance.

Sherlock pursed his lips. "It's Doctor Hooper, not Miss Hooper, and I'll thank you to remember that fact." Then he recalled his own use of the term "Miss" at the Christmas party and felt ashamed that he had not used her correct title while in the grip of his own jealousy.

Mycroft sniffed. "Doctor, Miss, it's all the same to me. That is entirely beside the point at this moment. I've come here to ask what your intentions are towards her. We had a conversation just over two months ago where I told you caring is not an advantage. Have you forgotten that?"

Sherlock folded his arms. "I have not forgotten what you said, I just don't happen to agree with it anymore," he responded tersely. Why did Mycroft always have to make him feel as if he were a child who needed guidance? He had been clean for years, after all.

Mycroft gave him a narrow-eyed stare. "I presume that to mean that things have progressed beyond the friendship level between you and your pathologist?" he enquired, and then his eyes widened as his gaze drifted down to Sherlock's folded arms and the exposed ring on his pinky finger. "Dear God, is that some sort of promise ring?"

Oh well, now was as good a time as any, Sherlock supposed. "As a matter of fact, yes. Molly proposed to me last night, before I had the chance to do so. She is now wearing the engagement ring I purchased for her, while I am wearing this ring from her," he informed his brother, in a rather more aggressive tone than he would have liked. Mycroft always made him feel at a disadvantage.

Mycroft shoved his hands in his pockets. He suddenly seemed uncertain. "I must admit, this comes as a surprise. I had thought you to have developed some sort of regard for Miss Adler after you viewed her body in the morgue."

Sherlock blew out a breath. "That wasn't her body. She's not dead and she's out there somewhere. She faked her death, fearing someone's wrath. I have not determined whose. I've been a little distracted lately, after all. However, I do have that cameraphone because she somehow left it on the mantelpiece for me at Christmas. That's why I thought at first she might be dead."

Mycroft's brows lifted a little. This was obviously unexpected. "That is indeed interesting news," he said slowly. "We have discovered a link between her and Moriarty. It appears she was in his employ."

This time it was Sherlock's turn to look surprised. He recalled all Irene's texts to him, asking him for dinner, otherwise known as sex, by her definition. He might have been uninterested in sex with her, but he was not ignorant of her obvious innuendo. If she was working for Moriarty though, perhaps it was all a ploy to get close to him? Moriarty certainly viewed him as a threat to his criminal activities. Suddenly, he had a thought. "Wait here," he told his brother.

Sherlock went to his bedroom and pulled open his bedside drawer, then extracted the cameraphone. He returned to the sitting room and showed it to Mycroft. "Here's Irene's cameraphone, but it's locked and there are bombs in it which will destroy everything in it if the correct code is not entered," he explained.

Mycroft's lips tightened. "It is fortuitous you have the phone, but how do you propose we determine the correct code?" he asked, rocking back on his heels.

Sherlock thought about the way Irene had looked at him when they had met. She had wanted him, he had seen it in her eyes. She had also let him know she was alive. Whether instructed or not by Moriarty, she wanted sex with him. Perhaps her heart was involved more than she would have liked. "I had a couple ideas about that which were incorrect, but I have two attempts left, and I want to make one last deduction."

Carefully, Sherlock used letters instead of numbers for the code, SHER, so the phone's screen now read "I am ShER locked".

He held his breath, then breathed a sigh of relief as the phone unlocked to reveal its secrets. _A very clever play on words_, he thought rather admiringly, _but not clever enough_. "Apparently, Miss Adler is not as smart as she thought," he informed Mycroft smugly, handing over the cameraphone. "I believe the woman developed an affection for me. The code is SHER if you need to unlock it again."

He smiled wryly. "I always thought that love was a dangerous disadvantage. In her case it was." His expression softened then. "But it's different with Molly. There is no artifice with her, and I have learned that love is not a chemical defect or dangerous disadvantage when you are loved in return."

Mycroft's lips twitched upwards slightly. "Seeing as you have been instrumental in giving me some excellent information that should aid in our quest to find proof of Moriarty's criminal activities, I am prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt. Have you informed Mummy and Daddy of your intent to marry?"

Sherlock nodded. "I spoke to them last night when I was at Molly's."

"And when, may I ask, is this momentous occasion to occur?" his brother queried, as he put the cameraphone into his pocket.

"As soon as possible," answered Sherlock, and he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "John is moving out soon to live with his new girlfriend, and Molly has agreed to move in here with me."

There was a twist to Mycroft's lips as he replied, "Well, I suppose I had best leave you now to get on with the arrangements, while I examine the contents of this phone. I think the royal family will be most grateful that they no longer need fear exposure of unsavoury secrets. Thank you, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded. The Irene Adler chapter in his life was now thankfully closed, and hopefully the contents of that cameraphone would lead to Moriarty's criminal activities being exposed. Now it was time to think about his future with Molly.

After Mycroft had departed, it was only a few minutes before Mrs. Hudson appeared at Sherlock's door, entering without knocking as usual. "Hoo hoo," she called. "What was your brother doing here, Sherlock?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. Mrs. Hudson would need to know about the change in tenants anyway. "He was curious to know the status of my relationship with Molly," he explained.

Mrs. Hudson clasped her hands together. "Well, I must say, I have seen her coming and going on a frequent basis over the past several weeks. It is obvious the two of you are seeing one another now and that makes me very happy."

"How observant of you," remarked Sherlock with a quirk to his lips. It would have been difficult to miss that fact. He had seen her peeking out of her flat door on more than one occasion to observe Molly and himself coming or going.

She smiled smugly, not seeming to have noticed the slightly sarcastic tone of his comment and he continued. "Well, I hope you will be even more pleased to know that Molly and I are engaged."

She made an exclamation. "Engaged! My goodness, when you've made up your mind about something you don't waste any time, do you? And here I was, until recently, thinking you and John had something going on that you weren't telling me about."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I can assure you, Mrs. Hudson, that John is no more gay than I am. In fact he is about to move out of Baker Street and in with his new girlfriend, Mary."

Mrs. Hudson gave him an astonished look. "Well, now my world is really turned upside down. Everything I thought I knew has just flown out the window," she said dramatically, waving her arms in the air like an excitable Italian.

Sherlock couldn't help laughing at her. "Well, I hope you won't mind that Molly will be moving in here with me once we are married, so you will still have two tenants."

"Of course not," she assured him. "And have you set a wedding date? Six months perhaps, a year?"

"Heavens no!" exclaimed Sherlock. "We plan to be married as soon as possible."

Mrs. Hudson frowned. "Why the hurry? She could always move in here and you could just plan your wedding together in a leisurely fashion for a few months from now."

_Because I want to make love to her and we're waiting till the wedding night for that,_ he thought to himself. Of course, he wasn't about to express those thoughts aloud. It was none of her business. So he merely said, "We have our reasons."

He only realised his poor choice of words when Mrs. Hudson put her hands to her mouth and gasped. "Are you saying she's pregnant?" Her eyes were wide.

Bloody hell, this conversation was getting more and more awkward. Sherlock huffed out a breath. "Of course she's not pregnant, Mrs. Hudson." He decided his best defense was an offense, so he continued with, "but we are not averse to the idea of starting a family after the wedding."

He was pleased when his diversionary tactic worked and Mrs. Hudson beamed. "Well, that would be just lovely. A baby at Baker Street. In that case, you have my blessing to get married as soon as possible."

Sherlock pursed his lips. She was acting as if she were his mother, although to be honest, she did tend to treat him like a son. So he merely nodded at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

Her curiosity satisfied, she left the flat after that.

In the evening, Molly came over so they could continue to make wedding preparations. He had checked out the availability of her church and they set the date for a little over a month's time. "You will be there, won't you?" asked Sherlock of John, who was sitting in his chair, studying his phone in order to look at potential cases for Sherlock and himself.

John made a show of checking his calendar on his phone. "Lucky for you, my schedule is clear that day so I suppose I am still available to be your best man, even if it is a bit short notice," he commented with a grin.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his best friend while Molly laughed. Then the engaged couple set to work on writing down names for their guest list.

"Your half of the church is looking a bit thin," commented Molly as she peered at his woefully short guest list which he had set down on the coffee table in front of him him after thinkIng and writing for all of about a minute. Her list contained colleagues and church friends and was looking much healthier as a result.

John looked up from his phone. "Molly, you should know by now Sherlock doesn't have a wide circle of friends. You're going to have to work on that together once you're married."

"John, can't you give Molly and myself some privacy?" huffed Sherlock, annoyed by his friend's interruption.

"Sherlock, I still live here for now and you are not kicking me out. If you needed privacy, you should have just gone to Molly's flat instead," John pointed out quite reasonably. "Besides, I'm trying to find some quick cases for you to solve to distract yourself before your wedding. Wouldn't want you to get bored while waiting for your sex holiday." Sherlock heard the teasing note in John's voice and pursed his lips.

"At least Molly and I are not shacking up together before any type of formal commitment," he returned with a sniff, trying to prevent the flush that crept up his cheeks. He was tired of John's endless teasing about him and his lack of sexual experience.

Molly put a placating hand on his knee. "Come on, Sherlock, let's get back to this list. We'll tell Greg to sit on your side, not mine."

"Greg?" questioned Sherlock, confused for a moment, then his expression cleared. "Oh, that's right, _Greg_ Lestrade. I really must make an effort to remember that in future."

Is there anyone else at the Yard you'd like to invite?" asked Molly, looking up at Sherlock. "There's Anderson, and what about that sergeant, Donovan I think her name is?"

Sherlock let out a sardonic bark of laughter. "Anderson, I might consider, although he is sure to lower the IQ of the whole street if he is invited, but Donovan refers to me as a freak and a psychopath. She never did understand that I am a high functioning _socio_path. The psychopath label belongs to Moriarty."

Molly frowned. "Not Donovan then, and you are definitely not a sociopath anymore, if you ever were to begin with," she told him categorically, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Speaking of Moriarty though, any news on his whereabouts? I would hate for him to make trouble at our wedding, seeing as he seems to be an enemy of yours." A worried expression appeared on her face, even as her gaze drifted back down to the notepad on her knees. where her own list of guests was written.

Sherlock slid an arm around her and lifted her chin towards him to plant a soft kiss on her lips. "It will be okay, Molly. Mycroft is working on some leads with some information I was able to provide him this morning in regard to his connection with Irene Adler."

Molly's brows knit together. "Irene Adler?" she questioned slowly. "Isn't she the woman you identified by her body rather than her face on Christmas Day when I was called into the morgue?" Suddenly, there was a jealous note in her voice.

Sherlock gave her a pained smile. "John and I were conducting a very important assignment for Mycroft, and Miss Adler decided to present herself to me naked, perhaps in an attempt to distract me from my case. That is how I was able to identify what I thought was her body, although as it turns out, it wasn't and she is still very much alive."

He could see heat rising in Molly's cheeks and her lips tighten, so he looked over at John pleadingly for help.

"Believe me, Molly, Sherlock and I were both flustered at the woman's appearance. She is a dominatrix and used to getting what she wants. At the time, I thought she might have sparked Sherlock's romantic interest for the first time, but I have since come to see his interest in her was purely on an intellectual level. The only woman he has ever shown a romantic interest in is you, so don't hold it against him for something that was beyond his control." His voice was sincere and Molly's expression relaxed.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I understand, and you don't need to say any more about it," she said, then added, raising her head to whisper in his ear, "but in future, the only woman you'll be seeing naked is me."

Sherlock felt his heartbeat accelerate. _Little temptress. _The wedding couldn't come soon enough.

"My husband is three people," said John out loud, distracting Sherlock who had been looking at the enticing curve of his fiancées lips.

Sherlock looked over at him in irritation. "What now?"

"Potential case for you," explained John, who continued to read. "It's interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin."

Sherlock fired off a rapid, "Identical triplets. One in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now if you could just shut up so Molly and I can keep working, it would be much appreciated." He returned his attentions to Molly, thinking it was time to pause in the wedding planning and enjoy some kissing.

He bent his head towards her and John stood. "Wedding planning I can listen to, but if you are going to spend the night snogging instead, I think I'm going to head out and see Mary so I can enjoy a bit of it myself."

"Sounds good," murmured Sherlock rather uninterestedly. His eyes followed John until he had grabbed his jacket and left the flat.

"That wasn't very nice, Sherlock," reproved Molly.

He shrugged. "At least it got him away from us. Let's take a break from wedding planning and spend some time in more pleasurable pursuits."

Molly giggled and wound her arms around his neck. "Alright, but just for a little while. We have a lot to do and not a lot of time."

"I can take care of the serviettes," offered Sherlock, "so that's one less thing to worry about at the reception. I learned how to make swans and the Sydney Opera House on YouTube."

"You are not folding serviettes for our own wedding reception," Molly informed him promptly and he had to admit it was perhaps not the best idea. Folding serviettes on the morning of the wedding didn't sound like the best use of his time. Well perhaps he'd offer his services if and when the time came for John and Mary to get married.

"Very well, I concede the point, but I do intend to make use-"

He didn't get a chance to continue because Molly Pressed her lips against his and made him forget about what he had been going to say. Kissing Molly was a very enjoyable if at times somewhat uncomfortable experience, he thought, shifting his position slightly once their rather intense embrace ended.

"I guess we had better not do any more kissing until I kiss you good night," he told her with a twist to his lips. No point in torturing himself further when he still had a month to get through. He didn't particularly relish the idea of needing a cold shower to get himself under control every time he and Molly indulged in too much passionate kissing.

By the end of the evening the invitations were ordered online and lists had been made for other wedding tasks.

It had been quite a productive evening, Sherlock thought to himself after he kissed Molly good night and hailed a taxi for her to return to her flat.

The following day, Sherlock was at New Scotland Yard, where Greg had called him in to help with a case. Sherlock reviewed the evidence and explained his deductions about which suspect in the case was the guilty party. Not even a three on his scale, but apparently a three to Sherlock was like a nine to the Yarders.

He was about to leave to return to Baker Street when Lestrade stopped him.

"What's with the ring on your finger, Sherlock?" he asked curiously. "I've never seen you wear any kind of jewellery besides a watch."

"Oh, that," responded Sherlock trying to sound casual. "It's a sort of engagement ring. You'll be receiving an invitation in the post shortly."

Greg's brows knit together. "Engagement ring? Is this some sort of a joke?"

Sherlock folded his arms. "Indeed not. Molly and I are getting married in just over a month."

Lestrade looked taken aback. "Hang on. I'm really confused. I thought she was seeing some other bloke, you know, from the way you were making fun of her about wanting to impress him at the Christmas party."

Sherlock shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. He really had been an arse that night and it appeared Greg head been paying closer attention than he thought. "Oh, actually that was an error on my part. It appears the man she was dressed up for was myself. Soon after that I came to the realisation that my words to her head been as a result of jealousy, and that I wished to go out with her myself. We've been seeing each other ever since."

"You've been seeing her for all of two months and now you're getting married? I thought you were married to your work," responded Lestrade, still looking decidedly confused.

Sherlock's lips quirked. "Apparently I have dissolved that marriage in favor of one that involves much more satisfying physical contact."

"Well, good for you, mate," said the detective inspector, reaching a hand out to shake Sherlock's. "If I wasn't a married man, I would have been tempted to go after Molly myself. She's a fine woman."

Sherlock felt a brief flare of jealousy at the thought that yet another man head expressed interest in Molly. Thank God he'd seen the light and snatched her for himself. First John, now Gavin, er, _Greg_. Bloody hell, for all he knew, Mycroft might have entertained secret designs on Molly too. Then he had to laugh at himself for his paranoia. Mycroft barely knew Molly, but just in case...

Bearing that in mind, when Sherlock got home, he sent a quick text to Molly to obtain her consent. Upon receiving it he sent another text to Mycroft.

_Mycroft, I have a job for you._

* * *

**Author's note:** With the additional content of this chapter, I was able to incorporate some extra canon conversation from the show, which I hope you enjoyed. What did you think of the various reactions of people to the news? Did you like seeing Sherlock a little jealous when he discovered that not only John, but also Greg, had found Molly attractive? I quite like a territorial Sherlock.

So, here's your chance to make a deduction. What job does Sherlock have in mind for Mycroft? Don't be shy. If you make a correct guess, I will congratulate you by name in the author's note at the beginning of the next and final chapter.


	12. Making Vows

**Author's Note: **I put a note on the first chapter about the new cover image,but for those of you who are reading as I publish, I want to mention again the hard work of Elizabeth Robello who made the image of Sherlock offering the ring to Molly - check it out!

A special thank you to all who have enjoyed this story enough to follow/favourite and review it. Those little email alerts that let me know there are people out there who enjoy my work really make my day. Unless you are a writer yourself, you have no idea what it means to those of us who spend so many hours doing this for no compensation other than those responses, how much your comments are valued. It is very affirming. A little kindness goes a long way. And now, for the conclusion...

* * *

_Mycroft, I have a job for you._

Sherlock smiled after he sent the text. He knew it was a ridiculous idea, but after discovering that both John and Greg thought Molly to be someone worth going out with, Sherlock wasn't taking any chances that Mycroft might have entertained any such notions himself.

Mycroft's response came a short time later.

_This is rather a surprise. I am usually the one giving you jobs to do. What job could you possibly have for me?_

Sherlock tapped out a response.

_Molly has no family to speak of, so I would like you to be the one to walk her down the aisle and give her to me. She has already given her consent for this._

Sherlock smiled again as he sent off the text. It was perfect. Mycroft would effectively be giving Molly away in a public fashion. He knew he was being silly and irrational, but if Mycroft had, for some reason, felt his own attraction to Molly, this would ensure that he closed the door on that idea forever.

_You are affording me the opportunity of a front row seat to give your care over to somebody else permanently? I should be most delighted, _was Mycroft's reply.

Sherlock was pleased by his brother's response. Thankfully, it appeared that Mycroft had not harboured any feelings of sentiment towards Molly. But what if there were other men out there who secretly lusted after his fiancée? After all, Molly was attractive, intelligent and had a wonderful personality. What else could he do to make sure everyone knew she was taken? He thought for a few moments and then texted Mycroft once more.

_There's something else you can do for me as well, big brother._

He could almost hear the exasperated note in his brother's voice by the response he received.

_What now, Sherlock? I'm a very busy man and your constant texting me is keeping me from my work._

_I would like you to place an announcement in the paper about the upcoming nuptials between Molly and myself._

He rolled his eyes when he saw Mycroft's next words.

_Are you trying to let your fans know you are off the market? You could always do that through Doctor Watson's blog_.

_Hell, no. I don't give a damn who might be interested in me because I know I would have no interest in them. My aim is to let potential suitors for Molly know that she is no longer available,_ he texted back.

His brother's response was a little terse, but Sherlock was satisfied anyway. Of course, it was typical of Mycroft to think the country would be in complete disarray without him pulling the strings behind the scenes.

_Very well. If you insist. Now if you don't mind, the British Government requires my assistance in keeping things running smoothly._

John, who had not returned the previous evening, but had apparently stayed over at Mary's, entered the flat as Sherlock sent back one more text of thanks with a grin on his face.

"What's with that smug look on your face?" questioned John.

"Mycroft is going to stand in as a father figure and walk Molly down the aisle to me, and I have asked him to place an announcement in the paper about the upcoming wedding," explained Sherlock.

"And he actually agreed?" questioned John doubtfully. "Your brother doesn't seem the type to take orders from you."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "Of course he agreed, he's my brother. We may have our differences, but I am aware that he cares for me in his own way, even if he likes to point out the fact that he is the smart one."

"I'm afraid my perceptions are still somewhat coloured by the way in which he tried to have me spy on you when we first met," responded John with a wry smile, before changing the subject. "So did you get any more planning done last night or did you find yourselves otherwise occupied?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh, for God's sake John, I hope you're not implying that Molly and I might have had sex instead. I can wait another month for that."

John gave him a look of surprise. "Hold on a minute, mate. I was sure you would've done it at least a couple times by now. Hell, I even let you have the flat to yourself on Valentine's Day."

Sherlock folded his arms and pursed his lips. "Not that it's any of your business, but Molly's beliefs extend to waiting for marriage, and I respect that. I intend for our wedding night to be very special."

John clasped him on the shoulder. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I admire you for that. I don't think a lot of men out there would be so willing to wait."

Sherlock's lips curved upwards. "I must confess, I'm not sure I'd be so willing to wait if we were planning a long engagement."

John made an exclamation. "So _that's _why you're getting married so quickly. When you told me the date last night, I must admit I was wondering if Molly was pregnant, but I was too polite to ask."

Sherlock couldn't help chuckling at that. "As a matter of fact, Mrs. Hudson was not quite so polite as to restrain herself from asking that when I informed her yesterday that Molly and I wish to be married as soon as possible, so I suppose it is conceivable that some people may question our reason for such haste."

"I guess that means your honeymoon is going to be an especially lovely sex holiday then," said John in a teasing voice and Sherlock rolled his eyes. His friend could tease him as much as he wanted. He knew it was going to be perfect.

Over the weeks leading up to the wedding, Sherlock and Molly were so busy with wedding preparations they hardly had time to think of anything else. Mrs. Hudson offered to help with things as well, and she and Molly took care of some of the more, what Sherlock considered "boring" details, like flower arrangements and seating arrangements for the reception.

During that time also, Mycroft informed Sherlock that there had indeed been very useful information on the cameraphone, including some evidence that could have subverted a careful endeavour to thwart a terrorist plot in which Moriarty was involved. Irene Adler had been found and sent into witness protection in America, which was more than she deserved, as Mycroft had said rather dryly. Moriarty himself had been apprehended and was awaiting trial on several counts of treason. Mycroft was confident that his criminal network would fall apart without their leader.

Sherlock was relieved that Moriarty would not pose a danger to Molly and himself in the future.

John had vacated Baker Street in that time too and was now happily ensconced with his girlfriend. During the same period, Molly's household items were slowly moved to Baker Street.

On the night before the wedding, Sherlock and Molly looked around her flat, which was now almost bare. Only a few things remained that would be taken care of after they returned from their honeymoon. It was just as well they had been so busy, Sherlock reflected. Their time together had been limited to mostly organising things for Molly's move to Baker Street and the wedding, which left little time for more pleasurable pursuits. In light of that, although they still desired one another when they were alone, they were able to maintain the commitment to wait for the wedding night to be intimate, restraining themselves to kissing, with the occasional wandering hand to squeeze a breast through Molly's jumper, or even more occasionally beneath, but that was the absolute limit.

Molly laid her head against Sherlock's shoulder. "I can't believe this is my last night here, and that tomorrow is our wedding day."

"Tomorrow is also our wedding night, my love," he reminded her, as his mind drifted towards thoughts of what it would be like to finally see what he had been feeling beneath Molly's jumper. The idea of seeing her naked at last was an intoxicating thought. "I must admit, that is the part of the day to which I am most looking forward."

"Oh, Sherlock, you know I'm looking forward to that too," she responded, tilting her head upwards and giving him a decidedly coquettish glance that made his heartbeat accelerate as usual.

Sherlock slid a hand around her waist and turned his head properly to kiss her tenderly. "Just think, Molly. If you hadn't confronted me about my jealousy, we wouldn't be here now. But I do believe somehow, some way we would have found a way to one another."

Molly smiled and continued to look up at him as she quoted, "_For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'_"

Sherlock looked down at the face of the woman he loved. He was used to Molly quoting Bible verses by now. By this time, he had acknowledged God's existence and was open to learning more. "Another Bible verse, I presume?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.

She smiled at him. "It's from somewhere in the book of Jeremiah. I thought it was appropriate."

"Indeed," he agreed, bending down to kiss her sweet lips.

Soon afterward, as Sherlock prepared to leave, he made his own quote from Shakespeare. "Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow," he said, kissing Molly's hand.

She giggled at that, then said seriously, "That is certainly appropriate, Sherlock. It's hard to see you leave, but the next time I see you, it will be at the front of the church." Then she looked at him from beneath her lashes. "I would, however, prefer more than a kiss on the hand before you leave."

And Sherlock was very happy to comply with her wishes, giving her one last, lingering kiss which would have to suffice until they next kissed as husband and wife.

The following day, as Sherlock stood in front of the altar and waited for his bride to arrive, he couldn't help the feeling of excitement that coursed through him. Molly had been very vague about the details of her wedding dress. She had informed him merely that it was a "princess" style. He knew her bridesmaids were wearing peach, and John wore a peach tie, as did Mycroft who had agreed to do double duty as an usher as well, despite his disgust at wearing such a feminine colour. Sherlock himself wore a light grey tie and a charcoal tailcoat and trousers with a cream waistcoat.

When Molly appeared at the end of the aisle, Sherlock drew in his breath. She was exquisite, even with the veil over her face. Swarovski crystals glittered on her veil and the bodice of her strapless gown. The skirt was full, in the princess style she had mentioned and her hair was down, the way he preferred.

She walked slowly towards him and his heart thumped painfully in his chest with anticipation. As Molly reached him, Sherlock drew her veil away from her face and saw her shining eyes and smile upon her lips. He was barely aware of what was going on around them, repeating his vows as instructed, after which Molly repeated her own.

When they were pronounced husband and wife, Sherlock cradled Molly's face with his hands and kissed her tenderly, feeling the blessing of God on their union as he did so. He reluctantly pulled away when the sound of applause and loud sobbing came from the gathered witnesses. He recognised the sobbing as coming from his mother and Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock took Molly's hand and held it tightly as they proceeded back up the aisle, smiling at the faces of friends and family who were turned towards them.

During the reception, Sherlock played the piece he had written for Molly in his limited spare time when not occupied with preparing for the wedding. John's best man speech was surprisingly sentimental and almost free of comedy. _Thank God he didn't tell everybody the real reason for the hasty wedding, only assuring the guests it was not a shotgun wedding, _thought Sherlock rather gratefully. He had been a little embarrassed, but glad that people would not get the wrong idea. He didn't care about his own reputation, but he did care about mollies and the way her church friends might perceive her if they thought she was pregnant.

Nevertheless, Sherlock was very glad when all the formalities were over and it was time to leave as the happy couple said farewell to their guests and prepared to leave in the limo that had been provided by Mycroft.

Finally, on a day that had seemed to last forever, and yet paradoxically had passed in no time at all, Sherlock and Molly were at the door of a suite at the Ritz hotel, and Sherlock's heart thudded with anticipation at the thought of what lay ahead.

Sherlock looked doubtfully at the voluminous expanse of Molly's skirt, wishing to carry her over the threshold of the room, but he was a little concerned that the slippery nature of her satin skirt might hamper his efforts. Nevertheless, he unlocked the door, swung it open, then slid his hands under Molly to carry her over the threshold. He set her down immediately inside the door, feeling the satin slip beneath his fingers and Molly giggled.

Then he closed the door behind them and put his arms around Molly's waist, pulling her against him, even as the voluminous fabric of her skirt swirled around them. "Have I told you today how much I love you?" he asked in a deep voice, looking down into her face.

A dimple appeared in Molly's cheek as she responded. "Several times, but I don't think there is a limit on that particular phrase." She reached her own arms up towards him, threading her fingers through his curls and pulling his head down towards hers so their lips could meet in a fiery kiss.

This time as they kissed, there was no need to restrain themselves, and Sherlock's hands roamed freely along Molly's skin, feeling the bare skin of her shoulders. They stopped kissing briefly so he could remove her veil and place it over a chair.

They kissed again, slowly removing one another's garments until Molly stood shyly before him in only her corset and knickers, while he wore his favourite Union Jack boxers. Molly giggled at that and he frowned at her. "Don't laugh at me, Molly, I'm a patriotic man, after all," he informed her, feeling offended.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," she responded, although a smile still played about her lips. Then she blushed as his eyes raked her figure and he smiled in satisfaction. "What are _you_ smiling about now?" she questioned.

"Oh, it was just a deduction about your measurements, which I can see I was accurate about," he answered trailing his hands along the curve of her waist and hips. He added, "At least I was right about your waist and hips, I still have to see whether I was correct about your chest measurements."

She looked up at him and blushed. "Then I suppose you had best unfasten my corset." She turned her back on him and Sherlock began working at the many hooks and eyes.

He groaned in frustration as he fumbled with the unfamiliar hooks. "Couldn't you have just worn a strapless bra?" he complained, as he frowned in concentration at his task.

Molly laughed. "I suppose I could have, but a corset gives extra support."

Task finally accomplished, he drew the offensive garment away and finally was able to feel the sweet curves of Molly's breasts before he turned her towards him and pulled her against his body, feeling their skin touching for the first time. She was so perfect in every way, he thought, as he began to kiss other parts of her body, her shoulders, her throat and that throbbing pulse point, then dipped his head lower to kiss the swell of her breasts, enjoying the moans of pleasure that escaped from Molly's mouth.

He remembered his research and began to touch the parts of her body which were classified as erogenous zones, thrilling at her response, and feeling a deep ache well within himself, even as Molly began her own exploration.

The remainder of their clothes dispensed with, Sherlock picked Molly up and carried her over to the bed, setting her down gently upon it and laying beside her. He was delighting in the sensations she was evoking in him as she explored his own erogenous zones when he suddenly realised something and pulled away slightly. "Molly, I didn't think to bring protection with me."

She smiled at him lovingly. "If you wish to go out to a chemist and look for something, that's fine, but I wouldn't be opposed to conceiving a child with you."

Sherlock stroked her face with his thumb. "I guess we shall just let things play out as they may, in that case." He had no particular desire to head out in the middle of the night to look for contraceptives, and he was ready to accept whatever God had in store for them.

Molly batted her eyelashes at him. "Well I guess we had best get on with things then, hadn't we?"

Sherlock needed no further invitation and proceeded to kiss his wife thoroughly, continuing his exploration of her body with his hands and mouth until they were both panting with need and at last two became one. They exulted in the sweet intimacy they had denied themselves over the past several weeks.

Sherlock knew they had made the right decision in waiting, because it was all the sweeter for having the blessing of God upon them as they consummated their love for the first time, sharing their bodies in the love and commitment they shared.

Afterwords, as he held his wife in his arms, Sherlock linked his fingers with hers. "Well, that was definitely worth waiting for," he commented with a smile.

Molly giggled. "You're right, it certainly was. Thank you for respecting my values and for being the strong one in insisting we wait. I didn't realise before how wonderful it would be to know that we had the blessing of God when we made love for the first time. It made everything beautiful, holy even."

Molly's heartfelt words made Sherlock feel slightly guilty about what he had originally been hoping for that night he had been planning to propose. "Molly, I have a confession to make," he said tentatively.

She shifted her head which had been resting on his chest to raise her face towards him. "A confession?"

"Yes. I didn't want to say anything earlier, because I had made my decision about it, but I have to tell you about the night you proposed to me, what my original hopes were for it."

Molly looked slightly confused but merely said, "Go on."

Sherlock swallowed. He didn't want Molly to be cross with him, but he felt the need to unburden himself, to be completely honest with her. "Before you proposed to me and I understood the significance of that purity ring, I had actually been hoping that once I proposed to you, we would make love that night. So my intentions were not quite as honourable as you may have thought."

He was surprised when Molly bit her lip and colour rose in her cheeks. "I can hardly blame you for that, Sherlock. It isn't as if I had been really clear about what I believed. I hadn't expressed the fact that I wanted to wait until the wedding night." She paused a moment and he could see she was gathering her thoughts. "I guess the reason is that I wasn't sure if you would ever want to be married, and I think if that were the case, I would eventually have accepted the fact and been willing for us to share that intimacy without the legalities if I knew you were truly committed to a lifetime with me."

His hand tightened on hers. "Oh, sweetheart, if I had not been willing to marry you, I would not have been the right man for you. I know that many people live together quite happily these days without the benefit of marriage, as John and Mary are currently doing, but as a Christian, that covenant is something that is so important." He kissed the top of her head. "You should never have to compromise your values for someone else."

Molly sighed contentedly. "Thank you for that. I know you're right and I'm very glad things turned out the way they did. I love you, husband."

Sherlock smiled. "And I love you, wife."

He loved the sound of that word. His _wife_. More than a best friend even, his counterpart, his soulmate.

* * *

A few weeks after the wedding, there was a double celebration to be had as John announced that Mary had accepted his proposal of marriage, even as Sherlock and Molly shared the news that they were going to be parents. Their baby had been conceived during their honeymoon.

Mrs. Hudson had given them a few suspicious glances after she had been informed of the fact, and Sherlock was sure she still suspected Molly had been pregnant before they got married, despite John's words to the contrary at the reception. Oh well, when the baby arrived nine months after the wedding, hopefully it would prove she was incorrect on that assumption, Sherlock thought, rather amused. _Unless of course, the baby makes an early appearance, which might make things a little more complicated,_ he mused immediately after that first thought. Oh well, there was no point in unduly worrying about it.

That evening, Sherlock held Molly in his arms as usual after they had made love, and he kissed her forehead as he placed a reverent hand on her belly. "Thank you for showing me your unconditional love, sweetheart, even when I was not deserving of it."

Molly looked up at him, reaching a hand to tousle his curls. "True love is always unconditional, and it was God who showed that to us first when he sent his only Son to die on the cross for us, to redeem us."

"And thanks to that love, I know now that death is not the end. My life has purpose in a way it didn't have before," agreed Sherlock.

"God has a purpose for all of us, we just need to be willing to listen and believe it, then follow it," Molly said, and Sherlock knew without a doubt it was true.

* * *

**Author's note:** For reference - Molly's quote to Sherlock is from **Jeremiah 29:11**.

Thanks to those of you who joined in the fun by venturing a guess as to the job Sherlock had for Mycroft. Interactive readers are the best! Congratulations, **SammyKatz** for venturing the correct opinion on what the job was that Sherlock had for Mycroft. Thank you also to **theonewithwheelsASh** for her guess, which I liked so much I decided to add to Mycroft's tasks as a result.

I hope you enjoyed the conclusion to this dream story. I find great joy in sharing my faith with others through Sherlock and Molly. Did you like my little alternate scenario for dealing with Moriarty/Irene? I didn't want the threat of Moriarty hanging over Sherlock's head!

For those of you who are fellow Christians, I hope my stories inspire and encourage you in your walk of faith. If you are someone who is still trying to figure out the meaning of life, I encourage you to pick up a Bible and read it for yourself. The Bible is full of stories, real ones, not fiction, of people who make mistakes and fail to uphold the teachings of the Bible, yet they receive God's Grace, forgiveness and redemption when they place their trust in Jesus Christ as Saviour. If you have questions about what I write and believe, feel free to PM me.

Please remember, I do not want people to think I am better than anyone else or think I have all the answers to life's hardest questions. I just share what I believe. Being a non-perfect human, I too need the encouragement of others and the review box is your chance to pass some along to me.

Until next time...

**GoodShipSherlollipop**


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